


Soulmate Brew

by Adams_Riddle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Harry Potter, Drinking Games, EWE, M/M, No underage shenanigans, Post War, Soulmates, Time Travel, adults!, all the usual characters really, but still, don't drink something just because a strange person in a shop offers it to you kids, harry teaches DADA, more of an assistant Professor, my take on the whole soulmate timetravel fun, non-responsible drinking, rated T for now but may increase, though Tom won't be happy about that lmao, will contain some angst and yearning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adams_Riddle/pseuds/Adams_Riddle
Summary: On the anniversary of the victory at Hogwarts, Harry and co get very drunk, wander around muggle London, and run into a suspicious character who offers them a tea that will tell them who their soulmate is. They accept, because why not? Unfortunately for Harry, the tea says his soulmate is Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 50
Kudos: 267





	1. Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the one year anniversary of the end of the war, and Harry is ready to get good and drunk. Good intentions go to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been playing with this idea for a while! It'll be a bit self-indulgent, and there will definitely be tropes that you recognise later in the story. I have another 10k words of this saved at the moment, when I've finished part three, I'll post part two etc so I have a rolling chapter system. Hope you enjoy!

_2nd May 1999_

It’s been a year since the war ended, and Harry is not quite sure he wants to celebrate. The Ministry of Magic, and the Wizarding World more generally has decided that the 2nd of May should be a public holiday heralded with parties of all kinds, but the thought of it all just makes Harry’s heart ache at the reminder of the needless deaths not only on that final day, but in the lead-up to it as well.

Regardless, he welcomes Ron and Hermione into Grimmauld Place when they apparate onto the doorstep and knock. Ron’s grin is crooked, weighed down by the still-heavy loss of his brother, and Hermione greets him with a hug that is, as always, all bushy hair pushing into his face and arms wrapped just a little too tight.

They’d had the forethought to buy Butterbeer and Firewhiskey in advance, and head straight to the kitchen to fill a bucket with ice, charming the ice to not melt and settling the bottles amongst the ice to cool. Ron fiddles with the wireless, looking for a radio station that is just playing music rather than retelling the “heroic tales” of that fateful day, or listing the dead, “ _never forgotten_.” Hermione fusses over Harry.

“We’ll have to show our faces just once I think at the ministry, Kingsley won’t keep us long, just long enough to reinforce that we are working with them, people are still weary of the government since it was so easy for Vol- well, him, to take over from the inside. You should wear your Auror training robes or the dress robes Andromeda got you for Christmas.” She explained matter-of-factly.

“Lay off ‘im Hermione,” Ron grimaced, “I don’t really want to go either, but… well, you know.” They were awarding posthumous Orders of Merlin Second Class during the celebrations to everyone who had died in the final battle, to be received by surviving family members, the whole Weasley family had been invited, but decided among themselves that Ron should be the one to accept it on Fred’s behalf. Hermione’s face softened as she watched her boyfriend continue to tune the radio manually, even though he could do it with his wand more easily.

“It’s okay Ron, Hermione’s probably right, I’ll put on some nicer clothes before we go.” Harry grudgingly agreed – he’d been redecorating Grimmauld Place when he wasn’t working, and had in fact been painting a room he’d selected for Teddy, his Godson, to stay in when Andromeda asked him to watch him. It was three quarters done in soft blues and purples, and he’d learned a few artistic charms to apply twinkling stars to act as a night-light if needed.

“It won’t be too bad, mate, Seamus owled me earlier to say there’s going to be an after party in Leaky, the whole DA is coming!” Ron told him cheerfully as he finally settled on a radio station he liked, the music soothing the redhead like nothing else could. Silence set his teeth on edge these days.

“Hm.” Harry shrugged noncommittally and checked the temperature of the butterbeer. It had cooled quite quickly. The three sat around the small table in the kitchen and clinked their bottles together, all three feeling overwhelmed in different ways at the significance of the day.

Ron pulled Hermione close and she leaned her head on his shoulder. Harry eyed her jumper, she wore turtle-necks a lot these days, or high-necked robes if she was studying – it wouldn’t be long before she took her NEWTs. He understood why she covered her neck, and his jaw clenched at the reminder of their misadventure at Malfoy Manor, of Bellatrix holding that knife – though now Bellatrix was long dead.

Ron was exceptionally tender as he kissed Hermione’s head, and then the moment passed and he took a big swig of his drink. As he did so, his sleeve moved up his arm and Harry caught a glimpse of his scars from the Department of Mysteries. That had only been their fifth year. His breath hitched at the familiar pain that came when he thought of that particular day when he’d lost Sirius. Ron could have been permanently damaged by the brains in those tanks, Hermione could have died from blood loss when Dolohov had cursed her, slicing her chest mercilessly.

_Gods._

They had been so young. The war had only ended a year ago. They were still young, but Harry didn’t feel it. He drained the last gulp of his bottle and eyed the firewhiskey thoughtfully, a catchy guitar solo came on over the radio and Ron hummed along as Hermione told him about the offer she had received to work in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures after she’d written to them expressing her interest to work with them when exams ended in several weeks.

Harry summoned a glass and poured the firewhiskey. He forced himself to listen to Hermione, took in the background music, the tapping noise of Ron’s fingers on his bottle, until the memories faded again.

~

“Fred Weasley, we honour your memory.” Kingsley announced, standing at a podium in the Ministry Atrium, members of the press were on one side of the room, invited guests and recipients on the other.

Harry could see Ron’s hands shaking when he went up to shake Kingsley’s hand and accept the medal, presented in a velvet lined box and engraved with his brother’s name. George was crying, Molly was crying, Arthur sat between them, clutching both of their hands tightly. Ginny sat next to Harry with her head on his shoulder, her other brothers watched solemnly during the moment of silence in remembrance between her and George.

Hermione stood to hug Ron tightly as he returned to them, and kissed him chastely. They sat again as the next name was called and a short explanation was given of their final acts of bravery. The box containing Fred’s medal was passed to each member of the family to inspect until it reached Molly, who cried harder upon seeing it and holding it in her hand. Though he did indeed deserve to be recognised, it was no consolation or replacement for him being with them still. The day weighed heavily, and the whole group left as early as they could, only stopping for one quick group picture for the reporters.

Outside, the air seemed lighter than it had been in the room, people walked around unburdened by grief it seemed, peacetime agreed with most witches and wizards – and indeed, the muggles too, who had been told that the murders and disappearances that had plagued the country during Voldemort’s rule were random terrorist attacks. A year, it seemed, had done much for the overall mood of the populace.

It was a bit of a walk from the Ministry exit to the Leaky Cauldron, but no one felt like apparating. After a while, they even began perking up, a few anecdotes about their lost brother, his finer few pranks, and the conversation flowed more easily. Arthur was moving from Misuse of Muggle Artefacts to working as Undersecretary to Minister for Magic soon, a promotion he had certainly earned over the years. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a fine Minister, and valued Arthur’s advice, it had taken the better part of the year as they sorted out the aftermath of Voldemort’s administration to make the position official.

Molly, in the meantime, had been busy with babysitting duties and doting on her remaining children. Bill and Fleur visited her often with little Victoire, their daughter who was just celebrating her first birthday with her mother’s family for the day – Fleur had understood that Bill had to be with his siblings and parents on the first anniversary of the end of the war. Charlie still worked with Dragons, but had taken leave for the week to be in England for celebrations and remembrance. Ginny had been back at Hogwarts with Hermione for most of the year, and had been headhunted in her latest Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw by the coach for the Holyhead Harpies, she was expecting to go into training after her NEWTs were finished (Molly had thrown a fit at the idea of her dropping out early for Quidditch, even for the chance to go professional).

Ron and George had been running Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. It suited Ron particularly well, as it had turned out his talent for strategy came in handy when looking at George’s business plan going forward. It helped that he was a war hero (bringing in “tourism money”), but also that he didn’t mind interacting with the customers too. The noise and bustle of the shop was comforting to him.

Harry didn’t mind being quiet and listening to everyone catching up, dropping in a comment now and then. At first after the war, he had been needed to attend funerals, trials and more. Then he had taken a month to try to adjust to peacetime, and the freedom, just knowing that they had _won._ Eventually, the itch to get out there and do _something_ , anything, had gotten to him, which was when the Auror department had offered to put him through their training programme, forgiving his lack of NEWTs since he had more than enough experience to speak for itself.

His musings were cut short as they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, heralded by the cheers of those inside when the patrons realised who was entering.

“Harry! Ron! Hermione!” It seemed like there were more people in the pub than should be possible, which Harry brushed off as being due to magic. He smiled at the sight of Neville sitting with Luna, grinning more widely when one of his favourite people waded his way through the crowd directly to them.

Hagrid near enough picked up the three of them in a big hug, and tears were streaming down his face already.

“Ah you kids, ‘ve missed ya. Not the same at Hogwarts with jus’ Hermione here coming round for tea.” He grumbled fondly, putting them down and patting Harry on the shoulder, almost winding him.

“Good to see you too!” Harry laughed, feeling lighter, he looked around and spotted members of the DA, and their families, happy and mostly whole, “Butterbeers on me?”

The room roared its approval, while Bartender Tom’s eyes went wide with happiness, “Right away, Mr Potter!”

~

Later, Harry found himself sitting in a circle with all of the Gryffindors that had attended Hogwarts in his year. Dean and Seamus were holding hands, causing money to exchange hands – there had been a bet on whether they would ever get together – and Luna had kissed Neville before going to talk to Professor Flitwick on the merits of Spectral Blibbering Humdingers and how it affected the mating habits of Centaurs. Harry pitied the small half-goblin, but eyeing him again, thought that he was probably drunk enough to withstand her.

“It’s so good to be together again!” Parvati squealed, and Lavender (proudly wearing her scars from Greyback’s mauling) giggled, hugging her tightly. “It really is!” Exclaimed Fay, another of Hermione’s room-mates from their school years.

“Some of us are going to be turning 20 in the next year or so, can you believe?” Dean leaned into the circle as if telling a secret, “I think we need to play like, at least three drinking games while we’re all still teens.”

“Too right!” Seamus agreed wholeheartedly, downing his butterbeer happily and putting the empty bottle roughly in the middle of the circular table they were sitting at.

“Suppose one or two couldn’t hurt.” Hermione acquiesced, as even she had drunk enough to loosen up. The company of the evening and talking out and acknowledging their hurts had been healing already, even Harry had to admit that taking a night off from the seriousness of their day-to-day life couldn’t hurt. A fresh bottle of firewhiskey was brought to the table by the bartender and everyone poured a shot for the game.

“Sooo… truth or dare or never have I ever?” Slurred Lavender. Parvati snorted at the juvenile suggestions, but everyone was up for it.

“How about a mash up?” Ron suggested, “We spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on gets to decide if they want to do ‘never have I ever’, or a truth, or a dare?”

“Wait wouldn’t that mess with the rules?” Hermione asked, looking scandalised.

“Babe, it’s a drinking game, the only rule is you drink.” Ron answered with a cheeky grin, pressing a wet kiss to her cheek, to which Hermione scrunched up her face in distaste, wiping the saliva off of her cheek.

“Okay, let’s do this.” Harry spoke up, “I’ll spin first shall I?”

Everyone was happy with this, and Harry spun the bottle. It landed on Neville.

“Neville, um, Truth or Dare or Never?”

“Dare!” Ron hollered.

“Oi! I choose...” Neville blushed, “Never have I ever… snogged in Hogwart’s greenhouses?”

The group giggled as half of the group downed their shots.

“You don’t need to phrase it as a question, Nev.” Seamus winked, having downed his shot easily, while Dean coughed a little at the fiery liquor.

Parvati and Fay exchanged grins as they refilled their glasses. Neville looked perturbed as he spun the bottle next. It landed on Hermione.

“Truth or Dare or Never, Hermione?” Neville asked innocently as the witch glared a little.

“Truth.” She responded, confident.

“Wait, before you ask her Nev, how do we know she’s telling the truth?” Parvati asked, leaning against Fay who wrapped an arm around the half-drunk witch.

“Excuse me, I am very trustworthy and honest.” Hermione interjected.

“Come on guys, it’s just for fun,” Harry also objected, which settled the group.

“So, my question for the brightest witch of our age… How long did you have a crush on Lockhart for?” Neville laughed, prompting the rest of the group to laugh as Hermione went bright pink at the unexpected question and reminder of her poor choice in crush when she was younger.

“Oh merlin,” She moaned, embarrassed, “Er, can I still pick a dare instead?”

“Nope!” Ron informed her happily, chuckling at her expense.

“Fine… probably from when we got the book-list before second year… up until I was UN-petrified and found out he was a fraud.” She confessed, laying her head in her arms as the rest laughed good-naturedly.

“Drink up Hermy.” Harry teased, pushing a shot glass towards her, she did so with a glare at the subtle dig about Viktor, another of her past crushes. She downed it and spun the bottle right away.

And so the night went on.

~

“I still can’t believe,” Harry laughed, leaning on Ron, “You- you dared Seamus to a drinking contest with _Hagrid_ of all people, do you think, will he ever be the same? St Mungo’s can’t handle all this ssshurley.”

The whole group laughed with him, staggering their way across the half-lit streets of muggle London.

“Well, I know for facts Blaise Zabini couldn’t handle all this.” Parvati admitted, she waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“W! When did you have time for that?!” Lavender gasped, taking off her heels to transform them into something more comfortable.

“Oooh…. Way back,” She sniggered, “Like, no ‘fense Harry, but you were a shite Yule Ball date, and Blaise had a bit of a bad boy thing goin’ on.”

Harry snorted, “Yeah no shit. Guess I don’t have to be that sorry about not dancing, sounds like you had a good time.”

“Well, I was, until Daphne Green- whatshername walked in on us.”

“Parv! We were like… 15,” Hermione admonished, while laughing, “There shouldn’t have been anything to walk in on!”

“Pffft, are you telling me you didn’t want a slice of that Bulgarian beefcake you were dangling on all night?” Parvati shot back, referring to Viktor Krum.

“Er...” Hermione blushed darkly, “He was a gentleman.” She finally admitted diplomatically, grinning sheepishly at Ron. Harry hugged Ron.

“’S'okay Ron, happens.” Harry told his friend conspiratorially, “I think Ginny had a thing for Viktor too.”

“Firstly, ew,” Ron grimaced at the thought of his sister and anyone being involved, “Secondly, you two were only together for like, three months in our sixth year, how do you even know that?”

“Eh, I’m not so straight, Ginny was the first one I told, we discussed it.” Harry admitted to the delight of the Gryffindor girls.

“I KNEW IT!” Lavender yelled, attracting a few looks from muggles in the pub they were walking past. “Fay, you owe me 10 galleons! Gay or Bi, Potter?”

“Love’s love, Lav.” Harry told her happily, smirking at Ron, feeling the urge to make a ‘Lav-Lav’ reference but not wanting to upset Hermione.

“Honestly, Ronald, it’s pretty obvious if you think about it. I would bet his sexuality is like… Seeker-sexual.” Hermione laughed at her own joke, “Viktor, Ginny, Cho…”

Harry laughed too, knowing it was true. Quidditch players were just hot to him.

“Ooooh!” Lavender suddenly squealed, “Speaking of love, isn’t this place cute? Let’s go in!”

The group, having wandered a few streets away from the Leaky Cauldron by now appraised the shop she had pointed out. It seemed to be a holistic store of sorts, the display in the window was that of various ‘healing crystals’ and figurines, even some dream-catchers were on display. There was a sign advertising fortune telling services inside:

‘ _Single and Looking for The One? Wondering if your Lover is really your True Soulmate? Free reading with real Fortune Teller with any purchase! Ask at checkout for more details.’_

“Oh Parvati, do you remember when we used to spend hours with Professor Trelawney? She really had the inner eye.” Lavender sighed happily, Parvati nodded happily, peering through the glass.

“I can’t believe this place is open so late.” Hermione muttered, her distaste of divination apparent.

Ron moved to wrap her in his arms, “Can’t hurt to check it out love, they’re only muggles. I already know you’re the one for me anyhow.”

Harry looked up at the sign with foreboding as the girls led the way in, he was wishing he’d stayed with Seamus, Dean and Neville suddenly. Even Fay had stayed, saying she’d floo home directly from Leaky. He’d had enough of prophecies to last a lifetime. He hung at the back of the group as they invaded the store with drunken browsing.

“Crystal balls!” Ron exclaimed as he stubbed his toe on a stand.

“Ron!” Hermione admonished.

“No, not like that- Harry, remember studying for our test in… third year or fourth year, and we just ended up deciding it was going to be very foggy all day.” Ron sniggered, apparently finding the memory hilarious. Harry smiled at the memory fondly, although it did bring to mind Trelawney’s prophecy about Voldemort’s second rise to power. He sighed and moved along with the group.

“-So cute! Did you know muggles do so many of the same methods we were taught? Check out this Tarot set, and these tea cups have actual rune patterns used in scrying, I wonder if they know.” Parvati got excited, examining the items on the shelf and they gathered around to look.

Hermione looked vaguely alarmed, perhaps thinking that genuine articles had found their way into the muggle world, Ron looked impressed, Lavender shared Parvati’s excitement. Harry wasn’t looking, but had met the gaze of the apparent owner of the store who had come up behind them quietly.

“Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen.” They greeted. A person with purple eyes ( _contacts_ , Harry realised), eyelids lined thickly with black swirls, lips painted dark, and more shawls than Harry could count wrapped around them. The group turned, hands twitching with the desire to pull their wands from their holsters.

“… Hi.” Harry greeted, “Nice… shop?”

Hermione and Ron shared an amused glance at the awkward statement.

“Thank you. It’s wonderful to see young people with such vested interest in the occult, I see you have found the Cup of Truth! I often use it when I have difficulty making decisions. I always see things more clearly after a nice soothing tea.” The shop owner explained, smiling pleasantly.

“It really is a lovely shop you have here, we saw your ad in the window.” Lavender complimented, putting the cup down, “I didn’t realise there were any in this part of London.”

“Often people will find where they are meant to be not a moment before they are meant to be there.” They responded mysteriously, “If you would like, it’s a slow night for business, would you like the soulmate reading? It would be remiss of me to not offer with such lovely patrons in store.”

“Oh yes, that would be lovely. A-and I’d like to buy one of the cups, and Hermione was admiring your collection of dream-catchers before.” Parvati nudged Hermione who smiled and nodded, not daring to say a word for fear she would offend the person in front of them.

“How generous, my assistant will wrap those up for you while I read your fortunes.” At their word, a teen younger than the group popped around the corner out of nowhere and grabbed one of the boxes off the shelf, disappearing again to go wrap the purchase in under a minute. Harry blinked in astonishment.

They followed the owner through a beaded curtain to a back room which was a table with six teacups already set out, and the correct number of chairs around the table. They all sat, and the owner continued to smile, pulling a steaming teapot seemingly out of nowhere. They poured into each of their cups happily.

“Who would like to go first?”

“Me!” Parvati volunteered, “Will I find true love?” She sighed happily at the thought. Harry couldn’t help but be reminded strongly again of his third year at Hogwarts.

“Drink deeply, my dear, and then tell me, what do you see?” Parvati followed the instructions and gasped after a moment, the owner took her hand and stared intensely at her palm.

“There’s… is it a cottage? It’s autumn, judging by the leaves everywhere.” She described haltingly, Hermione and Harry exchanged alarmed glances – Parvati seemed to be having a vision, or a hallucination from the tea it seemed.

“Yes, my child. Your home, one day, if you seek it. I feel that you already know your soulmate, but that they are not here. Tall...” The owner hesitated, looking to the heavens as if seeing the answers written above them. Ron looked up too and could only see the plain ceiling.

“But she is not too tall for you, I see,” They finally continued, smiling coyly as Parvati blushed, “You will know her by a bracelet you have not worn for some time but kept for many years.”

Parvati’s vision ended, though her eyes were still wide. Hands trembling she reached into her pocket and pulled out a chain with a fox on it. She looked at it without seeing it, Harry saw her mouth a word to herself, and then she put the chain back into her pocket.

“Who’s next?”

Hermione, determined to prove Divination wrong in all worlds, magical or otherwise, volunteered by drinking her tea like a shot, no doubt burning her tongue a little in the process. The owner turned to her and reached for her hand.

“Much hardship you have seen and felt, my child.” They proclaimed, tracing a line across Hermione’s palm. “You seek to know all, yet doubt that knowledge just the same. I am sure you can see him in your path solidly though, as much as you can feel his touch.”

The words were mysterious, but brown eyes found blue, and Hermione pulled her hand free to lean across and kiss Ron soundly.

“Before you ask, yes it’s you. It’s always been you, Ron.” She reassured him, resting her head on his shoulder. The smile on Ron’s face lit up the room with it’s joy.

“Me next then!” Lavender jumped in before Ron or Harry could. She sipped her tea slowly but steadily, and dramatically dropped it back onto the saucer as her vision started.

“Oh… but I don’t know...” She seemed startled, the owner reached for her hand, “I have never seen mountains like those.”

Harry wondered what she was seeing in her mind.

“A sign, you will travel, and meet the one destined for you there, of that I have no doubt. He does not know you now, but his soul will know you when you trip over his bag for the first time – though not the last time.” The owner reassured her, before letting go. Lavender’s vision ended, and she seemed flustered, she turned to Parvati and they grasped each other’s hands, speaking very quickly about what they had both seen.

Harry dreaded that he was last. The cup might as well be poison. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Yet those purple eyes pierced him with their unending patience, they challenged him to take a sip.

“Go on Harry, it’s just a bit of fun, mate.” Ron poked him, happy enough where he was sitting with Hermione pressed into his side, “You never know, it might be Viktor.”

The group laughed, and Harry relaxed a little, took a deep breath, then drank the tea in one go.

~

“ _You’re right,” He laughed, “Absolutely right, I do love you, Harry Potter.”_

_The other man drew him into a kiss, they were quite cosy together on the sofa, fire crackled away in the fireplace and it was snowing outside._

“ _Merry Christmas Tom.” Harry grinned widely at the other. ‘Tom’ pulled him into a tight hug._

“ _Merry Christmas Harry. Now, I wanted to give you the world on a silver platter, but apparently my methods would have been problematic,” He said, while Harry snorted at the comment, “So instead… here.”_

_The man pulled a small box out of his pocket. Within his slender long fingers, the box looked even smaller, Harry looked at him uncertainly. ‘Tom’ opened it._

“ _Be mine forever, marry me” Blue eyes, tinged with red, burned into green. “Become Harry Riddle.”_

_~_

“WHOA. WHAT THE FUCK?” The vision ended suddenly and Harry was freaking out. The owner looked alarmed.

“Be calm, the future can be scary but it usually works itself out given time.” They tried to placate him. His friends were looking at Harry with concern.

“Nope!” He replied, still freaking out. He flung himself from his chair and ran out of the room and then the shop. He continued running until he was at the end of the street and around the corner, out of view from the shop. He ducked into an alley and leaned against a wall, placing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

The night air helped, but he felt the alcohol reacting badly with his shock and couldn’t stop himself vomiting there and then. He could hear his friend’s steps and Hermione calling out to him. Knowing she could use the ‘point-me’ charm to find him, he didn’t call out to her, instead focusing on not getting sick over himself.

When the heaving stopped, he cast a cleaning charm. He had seen… himself, and an adult, normal looking Tom fucking Riddle. As in the psychopath who had become Lord Voldemort. As in the Dark Lord he had killed one year ago when the killing curse had rebounded. What the fuck. There was no other way of phrasing it.

Hermione rounded the corner first of the group looking for Harry and she had wide eyes as she approached him. Harry reached for her and pulled her close by her forearms, whispering urgently to her.

“Hermione… I think I killed my soulmate.”

She looked incredibly alarmed, but then Harry was passing out and she struggled to hold him up. Ron rounded the corner a moment later and helped her pick him up so they could side apparate him home. After seeing him and Hermione into the lounge and Grimmauld Place, Ron apparated back to make sure Parvati and Lavender were okay, escorting them back to the Leaky Cauldron so they could get home safely.

~

_3rd May 1999_

Harry slept deeply for a long time, when he finally woke, it was with a headache and an aching bladder. Ignoring the fact that he couldn’t remember how he ended up on his sofa, he scrambled for his glasses and stumbled to the nearest bathroom.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice wasn’t very loud but it was enough to send a spike of pain through Harry’s head.

“’m fine.” Harry called out to her, he washed his hands and then splashed water into his face. His hair was even more on end than usual, and his mouth was dry. He took his time to brush his teeth, but didn’t have the energy to shower. Harry went from the bathroom to his bedroom to change into clean clothes though and put on some deodorant, glad he didn’t have to go to work for a few days. He’d booked leave ahead of time, expecting to spend time with his Godson and the Weasleys.

He entered the kitchen to find Hermione waiting with a mug of tea for them both.

“Ron’s with George, he’s a bit short staffed today at the shop so...” Hermione trailed off, “Last night was something, huh.”

Harry sat and held his mug as if to tether him back to the Earth. Bits and pieces of the night before were coming back to him. A lot of it was happy, but a knot of dread in his chest told him it hadn’t ended that way – well, that, and his friend’s demeanour. She was looking at him very carefully.

“Uh, yeah. Something.” Harry replied redundantly, then offered, “Did you eat already? I can get you something?”

“It’s okay, Harry, I had some toast. I was just worried, do you remember what you said to me last night?” Hermione tip-toed around what she really wanted to ask. Harry strained his memory – they’d left the pub…

Muggle shop. Ron and Hermione being disgustingly in love, tea… Alleyway. Vomit.

Voldemort.

“Oh. Oh shit.” Harry perked up wildly, and took a big gulp of his tea, scalding his tongue, “Hermione, have you had a chance to investigate what was in that freaky divination tea?”

“No, but if I had to guess it’s probably a mix of recreational drugs honestly, mixed with the suggestive atmosphere and the fact we were already drunk. There did seem to be something a little magical about it… Perhaps the owner of the shop was a squib and knows someone who spiced it up a bit. I was waiting for you to see if you wanted to report it officially, since you seemed the most upset out of all of us...” Hermione led him back to the point he was trying to avoid.

“Yeah.” Harry grimaced but didn’t explain.

“Harry… Tell me. You told me it was someone you’d _killed_. I haven’t told anyone else.” Hermione leaned across the table, trying to get him to open up with that beseeching look she always used to get people to open up.

“Okay,” He sighed explosively, “but let’s not tell Ron right away, he seemed confused enough that I’m not, well, straight. The vision is a bit fuzzy to me now, but I saw… a young Voldemort-” Hermione gasped, “Or, well, he wasn’t Voldemort, he didn’t look like him as we knew him, more like a grown up Tom Riddle, and he didn’t have red eyes, he seemed… normal. And he asked me to marry him in the vision. That’s fucked up right? I mean, if the soulmate thing is true, I killed my soulmate, who was actually a mass-murdering lunatic and nothing like the one I saw in the vision.”

“That’s...” Hermione seemed to struggle for words, and if Harry wasn’t so distressed himself, he’d find it amusing.

“Yeah. It’s messed up.”

“My vision was way simpler. Um,” Hermione’s face darkened with a blush, “In mine, Ron and I were together and I was pregnant.” This information distracted Harry successfully from his misery.

“Oh wow! So are things heading that way between you then?” Harry smiled at her, pleased that his friends were happy.

“I hope so, I mean I’m not… Pregnant, that is. And Ron hasn’t proposed or anything, but it would be nice. I still want to have my career firmly established before all of that anyway.” Hermione rambled, face still lit up like a Christmas tree.

“That’s wonderful.” Harry’s smile turned sad, “If it does show the future though, I do wonder why – Like, do you think it just went wrong with me? It can’t be right.”

“I don’t know Harry. I’m sorry. Perhaps whatever magic is involved picked up on the previous physical proximity of your souls? A piece of his soul was literally in you for years. Maybe it just got confused. Don’t put too much stock in it, Divination has always been a woolly subject anyway. For all I know, Ron might elope with Draco Malfoy tomorrow for all the subject has been accurate in the past.” Hermione tried to lighten his mood, and the image of Ron being wooed by Draco would have been funny if it were not so disturbing.

“Ew! Draco and Ron… That’s just wrong, ‘Mione, don’t do that to me when I’m hungover.” Harry shuddered theatrically, “Your theory about it picking up on me being a horcrux though, kinda makes sense. I feel a bit better. Sorry you had to hang around here all night, do you have to be somewhere?”

“It’s okay, I’m not needed anywhere until after lunch. Want to have a walk and get a pastry from that little café you like?” Hermione offered.

“Sure, I’d like that, I’ll just track down my wallet...”

“Honestly, Harry- _Accio Harry’s wallet, Accio Harry’s wand.”_ Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. Harry laughed sheepishly.

“In my defence, I’ve had a bit of a shock.” Hermione just rolled her eyes.

~

_9th July 1999_

Months passed and life carried on. Hermione and Ginny both graduated from Hogwarts with high grades, and as expected, Ginny went straight into training to be a professional Quidditch player with the Holyhead Harpies, while Hermione started working in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures with the hope of improving sentient creature rights.

Ron carried on working with George at Weasley Wizard Wheezes, and Harry completed his training with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, immediately starting as a full-fledged Auror. The days were long, but rewarding, as it gave him something to focus on instead of wondering about his non-existent love life.

In his mind, he’d gone over Hermione’s theory about the Horcrux interference with the Soulmate Brew (which had turned out to be an obscure potion supplied to the squib owner by their doting wizard cousin from abroad, after some investigation) – though Harry was happy to let Hermione think he’d forgotten the matter, and didn’t bring it up when she and Ron came over for dinner sometimes.

He was worried though. What if it truly meant that he didn’t have a soulmate now? If he’d been destined for anyone before Voldemort’s interference in his life, he’d never know. Voldemort, the only alternative according to the potion, now dead. Nothing made sense, the vision didn’t even seem to be possible in any way he looked at it. Even if the Dark Lord had lived…

Eventually, he chalked it up to being a mystery – and given that the ministry conveniently had a department specifically for mysteries, he headed there on his day off hoping to have an informal and confidential, hypothetical chat about his dilemma.

He stepped off of the lift and grimaced at the familiar long corridor leading to the room of rotating doors. Unlike the time he had broken in with his friends, there were two Aurors either side of the door to make sure there would be no unauthorised access to the rooms beyond.

“Hi Brian, Greg. Just here for a quick chat about a personal matter.” Harry gave them a warm grin, knowing them from the office a few floors above. He found he gained access to more places by being nice than by trying to sneak in these days (though he was sure he could stun them quickly enough if he was desperate).

“Hey Harry, not here to blow up the time room again, are you?” Brian laughed, having worked at the Ministry to remember the last time.

“Not today!” Harry laughed in camaraderie, “I’ll keep my hands to myself, on my honour as an Auror.”

“Alright, Potter, get in there already.” Greg grumbled, having been disturbed from the book he was reading while on duty (in fairness, guarding the DoM door was one of the more boring jobs that could be assigned to an Auror).

Harry gave them a mock salute and entered the next room, to be greeted by an Unspeakable with their robe hood up to cover their face. He just resisted rolling his eyes at the theatrics and kept up his friendly smile.

“Hello, I was hoping to speak to an expert on… well, I think it would fall under Soul Magic, if you study that here…” The Unspeakable was silent, “It has to do with the downfall of Voldemort if that helps. Just a few questions...”

Harry was sure he heard the person grumble under their robe, but they lifted their wand and the doors span, stopping after exactly seven seconds and a door directly ahead opening. The Unspeakable motioned for him to go ahead again without a word.

“Uh, thanks?” Harry nodded uncertainly and then marched into the next room,“They sure take their job description seriously...” He muttered to himself. The new room looked much like an office, and had bookshelves completely covering the walls, though instead of books on the shelves, there were artefacts, all looking heavily damaged. Only one person was in the office besides Harry, hunched over their desk with their wand in their hand like one would hold a laser, pointing it at a scorched bracelet.

“Good afternoon, I hope I’m not interrupting...” Harry began. The Unspeakable yelped and jumped up, their hood fell back, but Harry, oddly enough, still could not discern any identifying features on the person’s face, perhaps due to a secrecy spell within the department. He blinked several times to get used to it.

“Harry Potter? Ohh, did my request finally go through? I’ve wanted to investi- I mean speak with you for some time now, I understand you were a human Horcrux? I’m the country’s – or at least to the extent that the Ministry is aware - leading expert on Soul Magic, thank you for your service in ending the war last year.” The words came out very quickly, and Harry was reminded of a cross between Colin Creevy (which made his heart ache) and how Hermione had been in their first year at Hogwarts.

Harry shook the person’s hand a bit numbly, “Oh yes, uhhh you’re welcome? I’m actually here for something slightly different, I don’t know about any request.”

The person froze as if being caught doing something they shouldn’t, and then slumped in disappointment. “Ah, okay then. No worries, how can I help you Mr Potter?” They sat down behind their desk again. Harry didn’t see another chair and transfigured one from an empty box (the office seemed a bit… cluttered…).

“So, it seems you’re well informed about the circumstances surrounding Voldemort’s downfall, but to clarify, he had seven horcruxes in the end. You correctly stated that I was one of them, the others… a diary, Slytherin’s Locket, Hufflepuff’s Cup, Ravenclaw’s Diadem, the Gaunt family ring, and his snake, Nagini. During the time he was alive, and before the piece of soul in me was destroyed, we seemed… connected, at times we could see into each other’s minds.” Harry went quiet, reliving some of those memories, “Among other things. Anyway, recently some friends and I drank an obscure potion known as Soulmate Brew. Do you know it?”

The Unspeakable had been scribbling notes and looked up in thought at the question.

“I know it by name, one of my colleagues studies Love Magic and has mentioned it before.”

“Well, essentially, we all had brief visions of what was supposed to be our soulmates. It sounds silly now, but we were drunk at the time.” Harry admitted, leaning back in his chair with his hands in his jeans pockets. “My question is, if you know anything about how the brew works, and could the Horcrux that was in me have influenced the results at all?”

“I can certainly consult with my colleague about this for you and we can try to figure it out, Mr Potter, it is a bit unprecedented. May I ask what you saw in your vision that has prompted you to come in?” They asked, scribbling another note on a separate piece of paper and charming it to fly out of the door (a ministry memo, Harry recognised).

“Well, the thing is, my vision wasn’t possible. The person I saw doesn’t exist.” Harry was purposely vague, but his throat had gone dry at the thought of having to confess the whole truth.

“Any detail you have would be useful, did you know the person in the vision?”

“Y-yes, and no.” Harry groaned and slouched forwards to lean his arm’s on the desk, “Does the name Tom Riddle mean anything to you?”

~

Tired of the Unspeakable’s excitement - which Harry thought he might be able to escape, only to be foiled by their colleague joining the discussion - Harry started transfiguring things on the shelves as subtly as he could, taking inspiration from the Decoy Detonators invented by Weasley Wizard Wheezes and praying they’d forgive him for the copyright infringement later.

They started to go off one at a time after a few seconds, clouds of purple smoke and loud noises honking on the shelves successfully distracting both employees just long enough for Harry to slip out of the door undetected. 

Oddly enough, the room he went into was not the circular room of doors, but a room with lights so bright Harry squinted, he put out his hand to steady himself and pushed _something_ onto the floor, shattering it. Panicking as an alarm went off, Harry hissed in frustration and tried to edge along the wall towards the next door, he raised one hand over his face to try to see through the brightness of the room.

“Mr Potter! Come back this way!” Standing in the doorway were the two employees from before, and no doubt… the footsteps Harry could hear would be aurors coming to investigate the trouble Harry was causing. He cursed and moved more quickly, ignoring that the other two weren’t daring to enter the room and praying that next room would be friendlier.

He whipped the door open, and stared in disbelief. Void space, it was the only way he could describe it, it seemed cold and the darkness seemed to seep from the room into the bright room he was in like a fog moving in. Too late, Harry noticed that it was not an illusion, and the floor fell from beneath his feet. The world went dark.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, so, what do you think? Anything in particular you loved or hated? Let me know!


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has fallen into the past, and tries to figure out what the hell is going on in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super inspired for this story this weekend! Thank you for the kudos, I am so pleased with the reaction to this story so far. Please enjoy this chapter. Oh, and a quick note: I realise the blitz wasn't necessarily going on in the time period I have sent Harry to, but this is fiction, so... creative license and all that. Many thanks!

_ 31st December 1943, 12AM _

“Urgh…” Harry’s head was pounding, like he had been out drinking with Ron again. He sat up slowly and tried to remember what he’d been doing. He couldn’t remember drinking at all, which gave him pause. Finding his glasses nearby, he quickly wiped them on his shirt, rubbed the grit from his eyes and peered around at his surroundings. It was quite dark, he got to his feet, found his wand and cast a low powered Lumos.

Gingerly, he moved to find a wall or door, sighing gratefully when he found a door handle a few moments into his investigation. The next room made it all come rushing back, he was in the Ministry of Magic - that much was abundantly clear, but the room he’d stepped into was the circular room of doors, he quickly went to the clearly marked exit door and out into the corridor.

The corridors were strangely clear, and Harry took the familiar route to the designated apparition zone, heading home. He re-appeared on the street leading to number 12 Grimmauld Place, and tiredly dragged himself along the street, glad he was dressed in his “Muggle-wear”, jeans and t-shirt in case the neighbours saw him. Although it was much colder at this time of the evening than it had been in recent days, Harry thought, and shivered but didn’t risk getting his wand back out to cast a warming charm over himself.

He squinted through the all-encompassing darkness and wondered how late it must be, there were no lights on in any of the houses on the entire street, not even a street lamp lit up. No matter though, as he half-jogged up to number 12. He reached for the door to open it, only for his hand to be shocked upon touching the door handle.

“Ow, fuck.” Harry cursed, wondering if Ron and George were pranking him again. Avoiding the handle, and figuring that they must be inside waiting for him to get back, he knocked instead, shuffling on the spot to warm up a bit.

A moment later, the door opened just a tiny bit, and Harry looked down at the House-Elf in front of him, who was definitely not Kreacher, or any House-Elf he’d met before.

“Um, hello there,” Harry greeted, dumbfounded, “Who- Nevermind. Are Ron or Hermione here?”

Confused, but not wanting to be pushy, Harry remained on the doorstep rather than push past the elderly looking Elf.

“There’s be no Ron or Hermione ever here, Sir. What business do you have with the Noble House of Black?” The Elf was solemn, but the squeaky voice ruined the effect a little. Harry frowned.

“Very funny. Okay, I’ll play along, who’s home right now?” 

“Master Arcturus and Mistress Melania are asleep, as are the children. If youse have urgent business, please state it now, or leave, Sir. The family will be available to entertain again in nine hours.” The House-Elf croaked, waiting expectantly.

“Okay…” Harry replied, uncertain, wondering if he was on the wrong street now, “Okay, fine. I’ll come back in the morning.” 

“Good night Sir.” The door closed in Harry’s face. He stared at the knocker on the door for a long time, and then at the silver numbers denoting it as number twelve. 

“Right, right…” Harry stepped away from the door, and checked around himself, and gave into the urge to cast a warming charm. His next stop would be the Leaky Cauldron, to see if any of his friends were having a late drink - they often could be found in the pub outside of work hours. He cast a quick tempus before apparating away again, noting that it was now nearly 1AM, later than he’d thought again. It still didn’t make sense that he’d woken up in the Department of Mysteries so late at night, those Unspeakable Employees had been quite insistent on speaking to him after explaining what he actually knew of Voldemort’s origins, and what he understood of their previous Horcrux connection.

Why had he woken up on the floor like that? 

He shook off the thought and turned on the spot with a sharp  _ crack! _

~

Leaky Cauldron was also a bust, and was the least busy he’d seen it since the war. However, the owner (another oddity, not Tom the Barkeep he was used to seeing), was able to give him a discounted room for a few sickles. Harry was glad he’d had a few galleons on him, and vowed to figure out the mystery in the morning.

It seemed that Harry had barely put his head down on his pillow when he was woken by a loud siren outside somewhere, he flew out of his bed with wand in hand, accio’d his glasses onto his face and put his jeans on in record time.

He ran downstairs to the pub area, and was met by a few other witches and wizards who had left their rooms (a little more orderly than Harry perhaps), the owner of the pub beckoned the small group towards the back room and into the basement. Bewildered, Harry went along with the group.

When they were all in, someone lit some lanterns and Harry took in the sight of makeshift beds and canned goods lining the walls on shelves that shouldn’t have been able to support the weight of the supplies.

An elderly couple went to one of the cots and sat side by side, holding each other’s hands nervously. Harry hung back while people settled, unsure what was going on, and then went to the owner for answers.

“Hello there son,” Came the gruff voice, “Alright there?”

“Yeah… Although, I’m not really sure what’s going on.” Harry admitted.

“Hm. Must be new to London? Have you been staying in the country, lad? It’s the muggle war siren, they’re out there dropping their bombs on each other, and the Ministry asked all establishments in the alley to take shelter just in case whenever the siren goes. The wards on this place are up to scratch, I says, but them Aurors insisted. No thought for my poor paying customers like. So here we are, pick a bed and get comfy, when the alarm goes again we can head back up top. Breakfast will be on the house to make up for the inconvenience.” The wizard patted him on the shoulder and left him to it, heading to a small stove and setting about heating up a pot of water to offer out cups of tea.

To Harry, the explanation had raised a lot more questions than it had answered. Muggle war siren? Bombs? How long had he been asleep in the Ministry for that a  _ war  _ had broken out without him knowing? Or…

_ “Master Arcturus and Mistress Melania are asleep, as are the children.”  _ The house-elf who had blocked his way into his home, the words came to him now and he picked a bed and sat on it while he tried to place the names. After a while, he was shocked to realise he remembered seeing the names on the Black family tapestry - those were the names of Sirius’ grandparents. 

There was nothing for it, he’d have to ask, no matter how mad he’d seem to the others in the room.

“Sorry, excuse me Madam? Do you know the date at all? I’ve had a bit of a strange week and completely lost track. Or a copy of the latest Daily Prophet?” Harry asked the couple on the cot closest to his own.

“Oh, bless you young man, let me check my bag…” The woman gave him a smile, while her husband gave Harry an appraising look.

“Galavanting around Muggle neighbourhoods is it?” The man commented with a slight sneer, eyeing his clothes. “I’m not surprised you’re in such a state, boy, get yourself some proper clothes in the morning, you wouldn’t want people to get the…  _ wrong  _ idea about you.”

The words made Harry clench his jaw to hold back a sharp retort, reminded too strongly of Death Eater rhetoric for his liking. He took a deep breath and allowed a tight smile onto his face, not wanting to fight in such close quarters.

“Madam Malkin’s will be my first stop in the morning.” He pandered to the wizard, who gave an approving nod. His wife finally found a copy of the paper, Harry was reminded strongly of Hermione’s internally expanded bag she’d carried everywhere during the war, and wondered how common it was for women to have such a thing, given the length of time to find the paper.

“Thank you Ma’am. Sir.” Harry nodded, and sat back on his cot to read the paper.

_ 30TH DECEMBER1943 _

_ MINISTER SPENCER-MOON ANNOUNCES NEW RESTRICTIONS FOLLOWING TALKS WITH MUGGLE LEADER, MR CHURCHILL _

Harry’s insides rebelled, he took a deep breath to steady himself, glad he hadn’t eaten since… well, who knew? The burger he’d had before heading in to see the soul magic expert, he supposed.

“Sorry, again, this is yesterday’s paper?” He asked urgently, needing the clarification.

“Yes.” The witch smiled at him, “Is everything alright? I know it’s odd to think, our minister meeting with the Muggle Minister so often, almost unnatural isn’t it? I’m just glad the prophet gets the truth out there about what nonsense that Church man is telling dear Leonard. The minister comes to our galas normally at Christmas, but this year-”

“Now dear, I’m sure the young man is tired, leave him be.” Her husband interrupted swiftly.

Harry barely took in the information, still reeling with shock. 1943? As in… 56 years… 56 years in the past? He handed back the paper, not wanting to read anymore. He nodded his thanks and got under the thin blanket on the cot, laying on his side as he tried to process the revelation.

No wonder the wards on the entrance to number twelve had rejected him. Harry wondered desperately how he’d ended up so far displaced in time, and fell into a fitful sleep as exhaustion finally claimed him.

~

A hand on his shoulder woke him a few hours later, and Harry was given a cup of black tea and a plate with some dry toast and a small boiled egg. It was far from the worst breakfast he’d ever had, but it was so disturbingly reminiscent of his childhood that only his remaining shock at apparently being in the past kept him from reliving his days at the Dursleys. 

About an hour later, they were allowed at last out of the basement. Harry had not left any belongings in his room and was eager to move on, to perhaps to go to the Ministry of Magic and confess to being a time traveller, or otherwise, when he heard a familiar name.

“-Dumbledore, Leonard has consulted him several times now.” It was the couple he’d been nearby, but they were gone through the floo before he could ask anything. A moment of consideration later, he decided the best course of action would be to go to Hogwarts where Albus Dumbledore, if he remembered rightly, was the Transfiguration Professor, and would in a few short years defeat his childhood friend and foe Gellert Grindelwald.

Wait.  _ Shit _ . Grindelwald. It was just Harry’s luck to be spat out in a time where there was another Dark Lord. Set on his course of action, Harry left a sickle as a tip on his room in a jar by the bar and stepped out carefully into Muggle London.

He was bewildered by the plumes of smoke covering the city and broke into a coughing fit immediately, not able to see where the fire was coming from, he closed his eyes tight and hoped no one would spot him as he apparated away.

He reappeared in Hogsmeade near the train station, everything was covered in deep snow, but Harry was happy just to be somewhere with clear air, he took in lungfuls gratefully and coughed more until he felt better. He straightened up, weary already, and cast a quick tempus. 7:30AM. Good enough. He started the long walk from the train station to Hogwarts gates. 

Along the way, he tried to remember if he’d seen any pictures of the style of robes generally worn in this time when studying History of Magic, but the only thing that came to mind was the memory he’d viewed with Dumbledore in his sixth year of a ministry employee being chased by Voldemort’s unfortunate relatives.

Aiming for fairly plain robes, Harry transfigured his clothes as best as he could and cast a cleaning charm on himself, hoping he looked a bit more presentable than before. He got to the gates in good time, a little out of breath and cursing the cold and the snow, starting to feel hungry again already - his breakfast hadn’t gone very far in filling his stomach at all.

Harry realised as he approached that it would be strange if he just walked into the school, so went up to the gates and hoped that Dumbledore was in there somewhere.

“ _ Expecto Patronum _ . Hey prongs, can you take a message to Professor Dumbledore for me?” Harry smiled at the sight of his patronus and stroked the side of the glowing stag. He gave his message and settled to wait as long as he had to.

~

Albus Dumbledore was, in fact, in the school at the time Harry was waiting at the gates, he was walking from the Great Hall, having had an early breakfast back to his office to prepare some lesson plans for the new term in a few days when a Stag Patronus trotted up to him and started to speak.

“ _ Professor Dumbledore, my name is Harry Potter, I am currently at the gates of Hogwarts and need to speak with you urgently, please come. _ ” 

Albus regarded the beautiful stag for a moment, and shrugged. Why not? He summoned his cloak to protect himself against the weather and headed outside at a brisk pace. Unseen by the professor, Tom Riddle watched, bemused by the use of such complicated light magic to deliver the message.

He tilted his head at the Stag which seemed to look right through him from the alcove he’d stepped into to spy on Albus, and grinned when it dissipated, message delivered. Things were about to get interesting around here.

~

Happily, it wasn’t even fifteen nail-biting minutes after Harry had sent his patronus that he spotted his old Headmaster - future Headmaster? - walking towards him. Harry waved happily, then remembered the wizard didn’t know him and put his hand down in panic, he paced in short strides, chiding himself and trying to get his head straight for the upcoming conversation.

It seemed hardly a deep breath later, and the young Dumbledore was on the other side of the gate. Harry didn’t blame him for not opening it up for him right away. It was odd enough just to see the man with ginger still in his beard and hair, at lengths much shorter and more respectable than Harry remembered.

“Good morning, Mr Potter I presume? I was surprised to receive your message, your use of a patronus to deliver a message is quite ingenious, I’ve never seen that before.” Albus greeted him neutrally, his blue eyes fixed on Harry with a shocking intensity and clarity. Harry had thought the man still seemed to be in his prime even as Headmaster in the 1990s, but seeing the sharp gaze, he had to rethink his perception.

“Good morning, professor. Thank you for being so prompt,” Harry greeted, offering a half-smile, “I… don’t quite know where to begin. It’s been a strange twelve hours for me.”

“A lot can happen in a few hours.” Albus commented wisely, “You do seem rather the worse for wear, if you don’t mind me saying. I often find it useful to start with small chunks of a story, if that helps.”

Harry laughed, the platitude was very much like the man he’d once known, he couldn’t help it.

“Well, honestly, it comes down to this, professor: I think I need your help. I seem to be a bit displaced.” Harry explained, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Nonsense, you must be in the right place, Mr Potter, help is always given at Hogwarts to those who need it.” The words warmed Harry more than anything else, and he found his throat closing from the emotion. The gates opened, and Albus beckoned him. Harry stepped through and felt the magic of the castle and the wards recognising him, it felt much like coming home. He sighed with relief. Albus gave him a more genuine smile.

“I’m reassured of your intentions at least, forgive me, but you couldn’t have walked through if you meant harm to this school or her occupants.” Dumbledore explained.

“A sensible precaution,” Harry agreed, they began walking towards the castle, and Harry took the time to gather his thoughts.

“This will sound rather odd, but I think…” Harry started as they passed the lake, “I have travelled back in time somehow. By quite a way, it was an accident.”

“You’re right, that does sound odd.”

“Yeah… ha-ha, you’re the only person I could think of that I know who would have any idea on how to fix the situation. I have heard that you’re rather busy with current events, I’m very grateful for the time you’re taking to speak with me.” Harry continued, wanting to reassure the man without giving away too much information on just what he knew.

They entered the castle, Albus seemed to be perfectly content to think on Harry’s words and wait to respond until he had his thoughts together. Harry wished he had that skill, instead he had the urge to fill the silence with further rambling, and just about held back the urge in case he said something future-compromising.

Instead, he mimicked Albus, who walked with his hands clasped behind his back, looking for all the world like he was just on a stroll with his good friend. Perhaps the man’s known eccentricity hadn’t been caused by old age after all, as he’d heard said in his own time more than once.

“Current events, indeed… I suppose we’ll just have to work on it during the rest of the school year. Do you have a favourite subject?” Albus pitched.

“Er,” Harry was confused, “I guess I’m pretty good at Defence Against the Dark Arts…?”

“Perfect! Professor Merrythought could do with an assistant, what do you say? That way, we will find it much easier to work on your problem, and be sure there will be no serious damage to the timeline. I assume you will be able to keep knowledge of future events to yourself?” Albus changed direction, heading towards the Headmaster’s office instead of his own. Harry’s brain all but short circuited at the suggestion. He spun around, stunned, then ran to catch up with Albus.

Tom watched them with speculative eyes all the while.

“Time traveller, huh?”

~

No matter how much Harry protested, it seemed Albus was delighted with his idea of Harry teaching. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the man really wanted to keep an eye on him to keep him out of the ongoing war, but couldn’t prove it. So it was that he met the elderly Professor Merrythought, and went through the current curriculum for 6th and 7th year students, which he would be  _ teaching  _ for the most part, and he would also have his share of grading of essays to do for all year groups. Headmaster Dippet was pleasant and shook his hand multiple times when welcoming him to the staff at Albus’ suggestion.

It was unnerving how easily the man agreed when Albus suggested it. Harry was tempted to check for compulsion charms or the imperius, but shook off the impulse after a moment. He was granted staff quarters, but had to raise an eyebrow when he was told the only free staff rooms were in the dungeons, given the size of the castle.

“I was a Gryffindor.” He muttered to himself, looking around the room and scowling at the underwater viewing window, “Unnatural habitat.” Ron would definitely get a kick out of this. Probably Hermione too.

The worst part though, had to be that Albus offered to  _ lend  _ him some robes to go to Diagon Alley in, and an upfront salary payment to get some supplies and clothes, since in this time he barely had anything with him. He’d taken one look at the neon yellow robes and winced, deciding he’d rather go wearing his transfigured jeans-turned-black-robes than wear that. 

Happily, he’d finally been left alone to unpack his purchases and relax before dinner in an hour. What fun that would be, he thought gloomily, dinner with a pack of teachers he didn’t know and the few students who had stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas. He spared a brief thought for Grimmauld Place, and how he hadn’t had the chance to go back and speak to the Black family. Probably for the best.

Harry finished unpacking, and eyed the stack of defence books, copies of lesson plans and collection of quills on his desk. Neat enough. He also had enough outfits, he thought, four sets of teaching robes, 2 casual, and various undergarments and socks. Even a new pair of boots, gloves and a scarf to see him through the brutal winter.

He started towards the door to make his way to the Great Hall when someone knocked on his door. Bemused, Harry went to answer it, and immediately regretted it.

“Hello, hello! I heard we had a new member of staff and immediately had to come greet you. My, aren’t you young, still, I’m sure Professor Merrythought will be thrilled to finally have an assistant. Forgive me, my name is Horace Slughorn, I teach potions down here in the Dungeons. Looks like we’re Dungeon-mates.” Horace laughed at his own joke, “Like dorm-mates, you see…”

“Anyway, how are you settling in”?

“Fine… My name is Harry Potter, I was just heading to dinner, would you like to-”

“Splendid to meet you, Harry! Are you related to Fleamont by any chance? No? I’ll walk with you to dinner.” Horace interrupted, seeming disappointed when Harry denied the relation with a shake of his head. Harry cast a quick ward over his door as they left, to keep out curious students, and off they went. 

Harry let Slughorn talk to fill the void, nodding and acknowledging the man’s words as the potions professor pointed out where the classrooms, his quarters, and the Slytherin Common Room were along the way. 

“There will be a few joining us from the student population I expect, for dinner, a few from each house -and of course, my star pupil this year, and for all of his school years in fact, Tom Riddle, why I expect he’ll be Head Boy next year. He’ll be in your 6th year class.” Slughorn prattled on. Harry tried not to react to the name, but let out a strangled noise that he covered up with a cough.

“Sorry, think I just choked on air then, maybe dust?” Harry tried to laugh it off, cringing all the while.

“No matter, my boy, I get a little parched in these halls, let’s get you some water, or pumpkin juice.” Horace gave him a half smile, and they walked into the Great Hall at last. Harry was quick to spot Albus and made a beeline to sit between him and a professor he hadn’t met yet.

“Good afternoon,” Harry greeted them both as he sat down, eager to eat.

“Good afternoon, Harry, I hope you’re settling in well? Ah, this is Herbert Beery, our Herbology professor. Herbert, this is Harry Potter, he’ll be assisting Galatea with her NEWT classes.” Albus greeted him with a smile, and introduced him.

“Good to meet you, Professor.” Harry shook Herbert’s hand.

“Welcome to Hogwarts! I thought I knew all of the Potter’s, seen enough of them come through here!” Herbert was a rosy-cheeked man with blonde hair, but unlike Pomona Sprout (the Herbology professor from his time) he was surprisingly muscled. Harry hadn’t seen anyone so well-built at Hogwarts before, and had to shake the thoughts of appreciation for the man’s form and how he’d gotten so fit away quickly.

“I don’t think I’m related to the main Potter family,” Harry lied, “From what I’ve heard, that line originated in India? My ancestors mainly lived in…” Harry panicked for a moment.

“You must try these roast potatoes, they’ve been garnished with garlic, simply divine!” Albus interrupted loudly, pushing the dish towards them both. Harry gratefully scooped a few onto his plate and busied himself with filling his plate with chicken, vegetables, and gravy. He was so busy with his food, he barely registered anyone else at the table, but over the course of the meal, he was introduced to other staff around him - He found out the Silvanus Kettleburn was the Care of Magical Creatures professor in this time, and Bathsheda Babbling was the Ancient Runes professor. 

Another change: Hagrid was not the Keeper of Keys, nor Groundskeeper yet, but he was sitting at the table further along, currently apprenticing to Ogg, the current groundskeeper. The familiar figure, slightly too large to be sitting with everyone, but with a kind face, warmed Harry, even if it was weird to see Hagrid without a beard.

Harry looked along the table further, and tried to appear nonchalant when he spotted the miniature Dark Lord he’d both defeated and who was apparently his soulmate. He looked straight past him to the next student, a young Gryffindor, then back to his plate, which had cleared so that he could select a dessert as the dishes changed.

How was he going to manage teaching Tom freaking Riddle? Could he stop him becoming Voldemort? Should he? Dumbledore’s warning about timelines echoed in his head, but at the same time… the vision of Tom: older, loving,  **_proposing_ ** -

Harry decided not to think about it and instead dug into a slice of treacle tart. He had a few days before classes started to get his head straight, and in the meantime, maybe Dumbledore would come up with a solution to his time-travel?

He could only hope.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? Anything in particular you loved or hated? Let me know!


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry teaches his first class, and has a bit of a rocky start with Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the responses so far from my commenters! <3 Here's part three

_3rd January 1944_

Of course his first class would be the 6th year Slytherins and Gryffindors, Harry wasn't sure who he’d pissed off to have such bad luck, but for all that he’d avoided the increasing stares of Tom Riddle, today he’d have to teach him… and hope that the class weren’t at each other’s throats the whole time.

When Harry had been a 6th year, he recalled that Snape had taught nonverbal casting, and figured that would be a good starting point, at least he could get away with taking points for people being anything other than silent. He really wasn’t too sure if the young adults would respect him at all as their teacher since they’d had the same one for all of their education in Defence so far.

He had a light breakfast, just toast and black tea before setting up his classroom, spelling the chalkboard to write some information about the lesson ahead:

_DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS - 6TH YEAR CLASS_

_TEACHER: PROFESSOR POTTER_

_DATE: MONDAY 3RD JANUARY 1944_

_TOPIC: NONVERBAL SPELLS_

_HOMEWORK: 2 FEET OF PARCHMENT ON THE ADVANTAGES OF NONVERBAL SPELLS IN BATTLE SCENARIOS, DUE MONDAY_

He nodded with satisfaction at the board, glad the chalk hadn’t been pranked to write something else than he had dictated to it. Harry next cleared all of the desks out of the way to give a large open space, since he intended for his lessons to be mainly practical in nature. When he was finished, he leaned against his desk, tapping his foot in anxiety until students started to trickle in from breakfast. At exactly 9AM, he shot a complex locking charm at the door, figuring he’d need to be strict to this group to get them to behave, anyone who was late would just have to wait outside the door, unless they knew the specific counter to his spell.

The students had grouped together in friendship circles, standing around, uncertain on what to do with their bags.

“Alright everyone, please write down the homework assignment in your notes then put your bags at the back of the room, most of your lessons with me will be practical in nature, as I believe that theory can be covered with homework. I know Professor Merrythought covered creatures last term, so I am covering the spells element this term. Know this: You should also come see me after class if you have any questions, I will always try to help and won’t get mad. That said, if you struggle and don’t ask for help, you have no one to blame but yourself.” Harry wondered if he was overdoing it, but they were following his instructions at least, so he counted it as a win.

“Now, I’ll just take the register…” Harry continued, going down the list of names and ticking off those who were present. Predictably, there was one Gryffindor who had not turned up, he made a note to follow up and find out why before giving the class his full attention again.

“As you may have gathered, this lesson, and perhaps for the next few weeks, we will focus on nonverbal spellcasting. This is a skill that is greatly useful in duels, can anyone give me an example as to why?” Harry jumped right into it.

“Yes, Mr Nott?” Harry acknowledged the hand waving in the air.

“Uh, your sparring partner wouldn’t know what spell you were going to cast.” The Slytherin answered.

“Very good, any others?” Harry waved his wand towards the chalkboard, and the suggestion was written up for everyone to see, “Mr Riddle, go ahead.” 

“While Mr Nott is correct that not knowing the specific incantation used can prevent someone guessing which spell is being used, the colour of the spell, as well as the wand movement may give away a person’s intention. Combined perhaps with a silencing charm on one’s shoes and a disillusionment charm, silent casting could truly allow you to showcase the element of surprise.” Tom spoke confidently, eyes sparkling as he described the duelling conditions. Harry likened his description more to that of an assassin internally.

“Excellent point Mr Riddle, thank you for expanding on Mr Nott’s point. Further to that, you missed that you should also use a charm to hide your scent, and that the disillusionment charm is not perfect, if you move too quickly, people will still see the blur of your motion, as it is more like a chameleon charm than anything else. Although, the level of concealment does also depend on your skill with the charm. Great start everyone, so, now we’ve established why it is potentially useful, can anyone tell me what sort of spells are easier to cast silently than others?” Harry grew more enthusiastic, this felt just like DA in his 5th year, though the faces were different. It wasn’t so bad.

“Yes - er, Mr Prewett?” 

“Short incantations, or spells that you know really well would be easier. Lumos, for example, would be easy because it is only two syllables and we learn it in our first year.” The Gryffindor answered with a grin, Harry blinked at the resemblance to the Weasley family he knew in the future.

“Yes, although if you know a particular spell well enough, the incantation may not hold you back even if it is long. You may already know that a lot of magic is intent based, for example, when you are in transfiguration, you have to focus on the specific detail of the thing you are changing. In charms, less so, though I imagine you all found it easier to cast Lumos Maxima when thinking of bright light. Some more examples of defensive spells that require intent are the Boggart Repelling charm, Riddikulus, where you must think of something funny and change the fearful image, and the Patronus charm, which repels Dementors. You must focus on a powerful happy memory for the Patronus to work, but in extreme cases, wizards have been known to cast the spell out of desperation even without a strong memory. Fake it ‘till you make it I guess.” Harry joked, causing some careful snickering among the students.

“Of course, I won’t be asking you to pull off a nonverbal Patronus anytime soon. We’ll start with spells you already know, so for today, pair up and take turns casting basic attacking spells and shield charms. I recommend you master Expelliarmus in particular, and Protego, they are more useful than you might expect in a duel, most wizards will not have any defence once their wand is out of their hand. Any questions? No. Okay, have a go and we’ll see how we’re doing in fifteen minutes. Remember: Silent casting only!” 

Okay, Harry had gotten way too much satisfaction out of that last line. It wasn’t surprising that the Gryffindors all teamed up with each other, as did the Slytherins, though there were two left over from each house that formed an inter-house pair, Harry vowed to keep an eye on them. After a moment, he remembered to check outside the classroom door, trusting the 6th years to carry on. The missing student had clearly ditched his class and gone elsewhere, as no one was waiting outside.

Harry returned to the pairs, and walked among them, chiding those who were muttering the spells under their breath, he could remember Ron doing the exact same thing in their own class on the topic. He found it unsurprising when Riddle had no problem casting a shield charm over and over, looking impatient while one of his peers - possibly… a Mulciber? Harry couldn’t remember everyone from the register. Either way, when he called for the partners to switch roles, he was a little concerned for the poor boy as Tom overpowered him again and again.

There were a few students using charms other than Expelliarmus as he had suggested, and he sighed as he heard a Gryffindor girl yelp from a sneaky stinging charm. Quickly, he called for them all to stop before others had the same idea.

“Not bad for a first try, though some of you are still muttering the spells. If you’re struggling with trying to say the incantations in your head, remember about intent, you know what you want the spell to do, you know the wand movement to make it happen, you know the colour of the spell. Visualise that way, it may help. Unfortunately, casting spells in the halls is discouraged, so please do not practice on each other outside of this classroom. I am happy to supervise practice after dinner on Wednesdays specifically for this class though, and other weeknights this classroom will be open for first come first served, bearing in mind the 7th years have veto rights as they have their NEWTs to prepare for more urgently.” Harry rambled on, grinning at the group.

“Now, looks like we still have fifteen minutes left, any questions?”

The Gryffindor girl was rubbing her arm moodily where she’d been jinxed, and several students looked excited at the prospect of the class finishing early so didn’t put their hands up to contribute. Unluckily for them, there was always one student with something else to contribute…

“Yes, Mr Riddle?”

“Thank you sir, I was wondering if you could showcase some of the advanced spells you know for us, nonverbally. It would help to have a live example, some of us are visual learners.” Riddle asked innocently, to which Harry struggled not to roll his eyes. It was a thinly veiled Slytherin tactic to see what he was capable of.

“I noticed you were doing quite well there during the practical Mr Riddle, but I can certainly demonstrate for the class. In fact, why don’t we have a small demonstration of a nonverbal duel for the class? First spell to make contact wins?” Harry suggested, wand already in his hand. 

There was a low murmuring that sprung up at his challenge, and Harry saw Riddle struggle to contain a grin at it. Instead, the Slytherin bowed his head in acceptance, and the rest of the students cleared space by rushing to the edge of the room, some of them pulled themselves up to sit on the desks, getting ready to watch the duel unfold.

Harry - barely - remembered that Riddle was a student and that there were witnesses when the boy pulled his wand and settled into a duelling stance, Harry copied, coiled like a spring with tension. There was a beat of stillness before they erupted into movement. Tom stepped to the left and cast with his right, a spell Harry dodged, noticing the telling shimmer of a shield in front of Tom pop up. He silently cast a disillusioning charm on himself, smirking at Tom’s annoyed look as he disappeared from view. The boy hesitated, and Harry cast Glacius - the freezing charm on the floor around him, allowed himself to make a scuffing noise that got Riddle’s attention, then leapt as quietly as he could to the other side of the room, turning and casting Aguamenti at the last second to create a sudden rush of harmless water along the student’s feet.

Surprised, Riddle moved sharply to avoid it and slipped. Timing his spell, Harry accio’d the boy’s wand, activating a tug of war that he ultimately won. Tom looked around wildly trying to spot him, crouched on the slippery surface ready to be attacked. Harry rolled his eyes to himself at the defensive pose and sent a tickling charm at the boy, thus winning the duel before taking off his disillusionment and waving at the students who were staring in surprise. Harry would bet that old Galatea Merrythought had never done anything like this with them.Tom carefully got up after Harry vanished the water and ice.

“Here,” Harry handed back Riddle’s wand, pretending not to see the sour look on Tom’s face. He felt a little guilty at having so thoroughly beaten him, but consoled himself that he had lived through war, and though this version of the Dark Lord was still only a student… That didn’t make the boy less dangerous. Better to have him think twice before going after Harry.

After a moment, he cast a warming and drying charm on the boy’s robes, though made a point of not making eye contact as he moved to the front of the class once more to address the group.

“Well, now you have an idea of what can be accomplished if you work hard and stick with it. There’s still a few minutes left, but if you’ve written down the homework, you may go. Oh, and if anyone sees Mr Adams, please let him know I’d like a word. Good day to you all.” Harry dismissed them, wondering vaguely if the Gryffindor would actually stop by his office to explain his absence. 

When the students were gone, Harry took a moment to inhale and exhale deeply. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He definitely needed to see how Dumbledore’s research was going.

~

_19th January 1944_

Riddle didn’t challenge him again in class, and Harry resisted the urge to confront him. Instead, he observed how the Slytherin moved around the castle, how he spoke to his peers and the faces he put on to various teachers.

Harry knew he was falling into familiar reconnaissance behaviour - or as Hermione or Ron would say, he was obsessing a little. Perhaps stalking. No, not stalking. He was collecting data on a potentially hostile individual within the castle. Yes, that was it. Just like when Draco had been trying to let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, he wasn’t crazy if people actually were out to get him!

His one regret was that he didn’t have Dobby to tail Riddle, although he did have the Marauder’s Map on him, which he only watched after hours when he knew he wouldn’t be interrupted by a surprise visit (Slughorn loved to drop by unannounced). Occasionally, he would be on duty to patrol the lower levels of the school, and he would check to see who was roaming the castle. Depending on his mood, he let students get away with wandering around, but on more than a few nights, he broke up couples and caught troublemakers alike. Ron and George would be disgusted at him using his powers of authority. Hermione would be delighted, no doubt, and tell him to stop obsessing over a certain Slytherin.

He wasn’t obsessed though.

“Really not.” He muttered to himself, barely awake after marking a pile of first year essays that Galatea had cheerfully dropped off earlier that day. He had the map open while he graded, wondering if he had been as cheeky as some of these kids were back in the day. Ron certainly had been, like Mr Abbott of Hufflepuff in this time, writing larger to meet the length requirement of the essay. Maybe they should be giving assignments with word counts instead of parchment length, he wondered idly.

Harry perked up suddenly like he’d gotten an adrenaline injection to the spine, Tom Riddle had left the Slytherin Common Room and was moving quickly through the corridors towards the grounds. Harry snatched the map up and ran to head the boy off. He tore through the castle like the hounds of hell were on his heels, and was glad that his quarters weren’t really very far from the Slytherin House area at all.

Tom must have silenced his steps and disillusioned himself, but if Harry was squinted at the grass, he could see where it was flattening under the boy’s feet as he walked. He judged Tom’s pace and guessed where his foot would land next, aimed carefully and cast, “ _Incarcerous_.”

“Wha- Oof!”

Tom tripped and toppled onto the lawn, Harry quickly caught up with him and finite’d the boy’s concealing and silencing charms.

“Out for a stroll, Mr Riddle?” Harry greeted with a frown, pulling Tom up easily and dispelling the ropes, having only used them to literally stop the Slytherin in his tracks.

“Professor.” Tom greeted awkwardly, he clearly hadn’t expected to be caught, and seemed quite put off at Harry’s presence.

“Do you have a good excuse for breaking curfew and being out on the grounds so late?” Harry relished catching Tom in the act of rule-breaking, then realised with a sense of surrealism that Snape must have felt similarly at catching him out after hours. He shook off the feeling quickly, not wanting to ponder the thought for long.

“Do you have a good excuse for potentially disrupting the timeline and endangering the universe?” Riddle snapped back, “Yes, I know all about your little time hopping business. Leave me to my affairs and I’ll leave you to yours.”

Harry wasn’t surprised at the threat, though he was surprised that Tom had found out about his status as a time traveller so quickly. He cursed and raised his wand at Riddle, watching the student do the same thing.

“Riddle.” He said slowly, “Lower your wand and tell me exactly what you know.”

“Professor,” Tom sighed with a smirk, “Why would I do that? You’re going to let me go, and I won’t report your misadventure to the Ministry.”

“Don’t test me, put your wand down and get back to your common room, _now_.” Harry warned, Riddle sneered at him and shot red sparks directly at Harry, dazzling his vision while Tom re-concealed himself and ran.

“RIDDLE!” Harry roared, dispelling the sparks and tearing after him. He could hear the student’s footfall on the grass and shot multiple spells in the student’s direction. Harry didn’t know why Riddle was sneaking out, but doubted it was for anything good.

He dodged a stunner by rolling forwards, running straight on without breaking his pace, then Harry shot a wide expelliarmus, hearing a grunt and feeling victorious as Riddle’s wand flew over his head. Harry dived forwards and caught Riddle’s legs, knocking him down.

“ _Finite incantatem,_ ” He spat, stripping away the concealing charms yet again. Riddle kicked at Harry, catching him in the chest. Harry was winded but didn’t stop, reaching to restrain the boy physically, he was too far gone in the desire to make him _stop_. 

Riddle fought him viciously, hitting and kicking, but despite Harry being short, he certainly wasn’t weak. His auror training had seen to that. The violence of Riddle’s struggle did cause the pair to roll a few times, each trying to maintain the upper hand, but failing until eventually, Harry managed to kneel on Tom’s legs, snatching at his wrists and finally pinning him.

Tom pulled and pushed and screamed in his face, but Harry didn’t budge, waiting for the young adult to get it out of his system. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was barely minutes, Tom sagged in defeat. The moonlight made his face shine, though he was covered in mud and streaks from the grass they had tussled on.

They both panted, regaining their breath.

“So…” Harry growled, “Ready to tell me what’s going on?”

“You maniac, get off of me.” Tom scowled, pulling his arms once more unsuccessfully.

“ **No.** ” Harry told him stubbornly, “I’m not about to let you go off, for all I know, you’re making a jolly trip to some poor unsuspecting muggle village to torture children, you bastard, so tell me what you were doing.”

“Torture muggles?” Tom laughed a little breathlessly, and Harry headbutted him for laughing at the suggestion, fed up with his attitude.

“Think it’s funny now, asshole?” Harry watched with satisfaction as Tom groaned, a little blood streaking his face now.

“Fucking hell, Potter, _fine._ I was meeting a friend in the pub for a drink, alright? Nothing nefarious about that, I’m seventeen, an adult in the eyes of the law, let me go have a fucking drink.” Tom told him, but Harry didn’t believe him.

“Whether that’s true or not, students are not permitted to be on the grounds after hours, and certainly not to leave the castle without special permission.” Harry told him triumphantly. Tom sulked and didn’t respond for a while.

“Will you get off of me, sir? If I am forbidden from this, I would like to find my wand and go back to bed.” Tom asked, “Unless you’re getting... comfortable on me, pervert.”

As if scalded, Harry leapt off of him, ignoring the boy’s smirk - Tom had found Harry’s weak spot - Tom stood up a little unsteadily, and now that the red haze was clearing from his mind, Harry realised he had probably gone a bit too far.

“Fuck.” He sighed, “ _Accio Tom’s wand_.” 

He handed the wand back, keeping a close eye on Riddle all the while. 

“Let’s head back to the castle, and we can both forget about this whole thing. Sound good?” Harry insisted tiredly. Tom cast some cleaning spells on himself and gestured for Harry to lead the way.

“Do you need medical attention, Mr Riddle?” Harry asked, trying to get back into his role as teacher rather than arch-nemesis. Tom was a little pale, although he had managed to clean the blood off of his face, Harry stopped to inspect the cut on Tom’s brow, lighting his wand with a thought.

“Keep still,” Harry admonished, grabbing Tom’s chin to tilt his head to the side, “The cut isn’t too deep… hm… _Episkey_.”

The skin knitted back together, leaving no scar thankfully, Harry let Tom go and they continued back up to the doors to the Great Hall. Happily, neither of them felt the need to make conversation, and remained quiet as Harry walked Tom all the way back to the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room.

“Good night Mr Riddle.” Harry said stiffly, “Don’t let me catch you out again unless you’re on prefect patrols.”

“Yes, of course… One more thing, Professor. This misunderstanding between us, we would both like it to remain forgotten, but I have a request for it before it can remain that way.” Tom leaned against the wall, a calculating look on his face. Harry couldn’t stop himself from sighing, and warily gestured for Tom to carry on.

“Teach me to duel like you.” The words were almost whispered, almost a prayer, and Tom’s eyes were intense, a desire for knowledge lingering in that gaze. Harry could have cursed himself, of course by beating Tom so thoroughly, the boy would want extra lessons instead of revenge.

“I will… consider your request.” Harry bit out, reluctant to make Tom any more proficient, “I am rather busy with NEWT students after all. See me after class on Friday and I’ll let you know my answer.”

Tom nodded sharply, “Goodnight then, professor.”

Harry watched him disappear into the gloom of the common room, uneasy.

~

_20th January 1944_

“Are you alright there, Mr Potter?” Albus asked, sitting next to Harry at breakfast. Harry had been tiredly staring into his porridge for at least five minutes.

“Albus… how’s your research going?” Harry acknowledged, remembering at last to actually eat his breakfast.

“It’s only been a few weeks, but I am waiting to hear from some acquaintances from mine who have rather rare tomes on time magic. How are things going in classes?” Albus enquired cheerfully.

“That’s great news, let me know as soon as they arrive. As much as I’m enjoying teaching, I am rather eager to get back to my family and friends. It’s quite the change of pace here, I was an auror before.” Harry admitted, scooping another spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

“That explains your prowess, I have heard that many of the students are rather enjoying the change of pace with your classes, the younger years are quite jealous. I was wondering if you’d like to lead an extracurricular club so more of our students can benefit from your guidance.” Albus suggested, “Headmaster Dippet is always pleased to encourage extra activities for the students, as they seem to stay out of trouble that way. Unfortunately, other than Quidditch, Chess club, and the School Choir, there are not many clubs at all.”

“Oh, er… How about an Art club? Students would probably like that. Some other sort of music club that doesn’t require singing? I guess you meant I could lead a Duelling club, though I might need an assistant depending on how many students turn up…” Harry considered, trying to remember what sort of things were going on at Hogwarts, although he was only involved in Quidditch before.

“Galatea would not have the time, my boy, but I’m sure you could ask the prefects for assistance, all of them are fairly proficient in their studies, we wouldn’t select them for the position otherwise.” Albus explained airily, sipping from a cup. Harry wondered what the Transfiguration professor was drinking, as the Gryffindors might be too bullish, the Ravenclaws would be focused on more theory lessons, the Hufflepuffs… they would probably do well, but Harry’s duelling style was a bit brutal for a house that put emphasis on fairness. Slytherins. Riddle. Riddle! What a way to meet the boy’s demand while helping the other students at the same time.

“Actually, I had a student express an interest in extra duelling practice,” Harry perked up, “I’m sure this would be the perfect opportunity for him to prove himself.”

Albus nodded happily, “I’ll be sure to let the Headmaster know, you’ll need to put notices in all of the common room’s to give students a fair chance to join up. Any ideas where you’d like to host the club?”

Harry started to plan, with Albus’ occasional input. This was the perfect solution to his problems.

~

_21st January 1944_

“Professor, have you had time to think about my proposal?” Tom purred when the final student had left class that Friday. Harry nearly choked at the wording, almost forgetting the plans he had put in place. Riddle stepped up to the teaching platform with him, having the nerve to sit on Harry’s desk while Harry tidied up and cleared the chalkboard.

“Mr Riddle, yes, as a matter of fact, you and I shall be working on duelling quite a bit in the coming weeks. I am starting a duelling club, and I’d like you to be my assistant for the club. We shall go over lessons prior to each session, I believe that will meet your needs?” Harry informed him smugly. Though his smile dropped when Riddle seemed perfectly happy with his idea.

“How marvellous, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of eager participants from Slytherin House. Is there anything I can do to assist with the set up already?” Tom asked smoothly, still sitting on _Harry_ ’ _s_ damn desk.

“Yes,” Harry replied frostily, rummaging through the paperwork on his desk, “If you could speak with the other prefects to distribute these posters in the common rooms, then sessions will be on Saturday afternoons at 3pm-5pm. If you wish to come here an hour before the club meetings, I will go through the expected material with you first.”

“Excellent, I am glad we have come to an accord.” Tom jumped to his feet. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Yes. Don’t forget your assignment on warding spells, due next week.” Harry reminded, then shooed the Slytherin out of his classroom. It made him uncomfortable to see Tom looking so pleased. Bloody Slytherins.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think :)


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first duelling club meeting commences, Harry continues to get accosted by Slughorn, thinks about his past/future, and speaks with Albus about his birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-Da! I estimated this would be up by Monday, how awesome is it that I am posting it early? Anyways, hope you enjoy and are staying safe out there in the Big Bad World! All my love, dear readers~

_Saturday 29th January 1944 3PM_

Professor Potter and Tom Riddle entered the Great Hall side by side, and were a devastatingly handsome sight - all of the student population that felt attraction to men agreed: They were hot. What they didn’t see while they were drooling over the two in their professional duelling robes was the warning look Harry gave to Tom just before they entered. They had just spent an hour going over Harry’s lesson plan for the session, in which both young adults had refused to acknowledge their previous fighting or attempted blackmailing.

The Great Hall had been transformed for the occasion, a long duelling platform taking the place of the usual tables, and space all around for the students in attendance. Feeling strangely like Snape once again, Harry quickly ascended the steps onto the platform with Tom hot on his heels. He turned on the spot when he had reached the rough middle and surveyed the turnout, mostly older students he had already taught with clusters of younger students who had heard rumours about the duel demonstration in his sixth year class. He was somehow glad the turnout was not as large as when Lockhart had hosted the duelling club in his second year, and even more glad that no one knew him as the Boy-Who-Lived here, hopefully only those who were serious about DADA had signed up.

Riddle had been surprisingly receptive to his suggestions for the first club meeting, and Harry was suspicious that the student hadn’t pushed him further for more private instruction instead of the return to basics Harry had planned. Though it had been over a week since their fight under the moonlight, Harry was still equal parts tense and slightly guilty for beating the boy so soundly.

“Welcome to the first Duelling Club session, thank you all for coming, it’s nice to see such variety, there really aren’t enough extra curricular opportunities for the houses to mix, please try to put personal rivalries aside while here. If I hear that you are using what you have learned here to bully someone else or settle a score, you will be in detention with me for the rest of the school year.” Harry informed the room sternly, sighing internally when a few students blanched at the promise, he tried to remember them in case they really did break the rules.

“Now, as we have both younger and older students, I think the best place to start would be with the basics - a welcome refresher for the more experienced, I hope, and a sensible place to start for those with no experience. You may recognise my assistant, Tom Riddle, from my 6th year class, he volunteered to help me run the club and is happy to help any of our younger members catch up when we progress to more advanced duelling.” Harry introduced the prefect, who put on a charming smile for the crowd, even waving to a few students who swooned much to Harry’s annoyance.

“We will first go through common duelling forms, as these are generally required if you duel professionally, but having good posture will prevent you from getting as many injuries too. Tom and I will demonstrate in a moment, first everyone get into a space of your own far enough apart that you cannot touch the person next to you with your arms outstretched.” Harry paused as there was a flurry of movement. He snorted seeing a pair of second years waving their arms around to denote their space.

“Very good, now the beginning form requires you to stand with your legs hips width apart, one leg behind the other so that you are almost side on to your opponent. Some will extend their non-wand arm behind them like so,” Harry curved his arm outwards, “While others, as Tom is demonstrating, will keep their arm tight by their side. Your wand arm should be pointing toward your opponent, though you should not cast before the overseer of your duel has counted down. Again, it is personal preference whether to extend the elbow or relax it. Go with the form that is most natural and comfortable for your body, Tom and I will now walk among you to correct your posture, remember to keep your back straight and chin up.”

Both assistant and instructor descended the platform on opposite ends and started to work their way around the room, making sure to check all 40ish of the student’s posture before returning to the platform.

“Very good! You should also know that generally, much like in fencing, beginner duelling rules require you to keep much to that form during the duel, only breaking out of it to make a wand movement, and stepping forward or back as though fencing. Tom and I will now show you what I mean.” Harry informed the crowd.

They both fell into the specified form, “3, 2, 1.” Harry counted them in.

Tom stepped forwards to cast a simple knock-back jinx, while Harry stepped back to cast an angled shield charm, allowing the spell to dissipate harmlessly on the far wall away from the students. As planned, Tom paused for a few seconds to allow Harry to send a tickling charm at him, which he also redirected with a shield charm away from the students watching. They held their forms for a few seconds more and then straightened up, facing the group once more.

“Again, this is only in basic duels, there are more advanced forms, and in battle scenarios, should you ever find yourself in one, you should move however needed to survive. We won’t be showing you that today, but depending how our sessions continue, we may cover it briefly before the end of the school year.” Harry explained, wondering if he could get the club trained up well enough to simulate a battle, it would be pretty cool, though he’d have to ban some spells… He shook himself a little to shake off the thought and refocus.

“Right, I would like you to please first group up by year, so we can check the numbers are right for pairings, then when we have counted you, pair up with someone either from your year or someone with a similar skill level in the year closest to yours. Lower years to the left, higher years to the right.” Harry directed, then aside to Tom he said, “Please take over the fourth years and below.” 

Tom only nodded, then headed directly to the left of the platform to organise pairings, Harry scrutinised the boy, suspicious and more understanding of Albus’ watching of the student when seeing how he operated in public. Tom was surprisingly quiet and malleable when he wanted to be, if only he had been so easy to handle in every other encounter Harry had with him.

Harry jumped off the platform with ease, having leapt from higher heights in Quidditch training before, and walked to the older group, who seemed to have paired off already. He eyed the divisions in the group, there were some predictable house-only pairs, but he would allow it for today, planning to split up familiar pairs in future sessions instead.

“Hi all, thanks for attending,” Harry greeted easily, “How are you finding the session so far?”

“It’s not quite what I was expecting.” One ravenclaw spoke up, Harry didn’t recognise her and guessed she might be a fifth year, “I’d hoped for more advanced lessons.”

“What she said. We’re not going to hold off the Reapers with tickling charms!” That was one of his NEWT class Gryffindors. Harry took a moment to remember that Reapers were Grindelwald’s followers as Death Eaters had been Voldemort’s followers in his own time. He could see where the boy was coming from, having been in his position.

“I welcome your criticism, but not every session will be like this, so I hope you won’t quit after today. After all, I can’t jump straight into warfare if just the first years turned up, could I?” He pointed out, in what he hoped was a tone of camaraderie. The group still looked a little unsure, he could have rolled his eyes at the broody types he’d been saddled with, had he been so angsty? … Maybe, but whatever.

“Anyway… I need to assess your skills, so while Riddle works with the younger students down here, you will all take turns on the duelling platform using the form I showed you. You may use more advanced spells if you wish, but nothing illegal, no dark arts, nothing that can’t be fixed in the Hospital Wing, understood?” He told them more firmly, and they did perk up at the opportunity to show off. Harry had his work cut out for him with this bunch.

~

There were a handful of injuries by the time the session ended at 5pm, allowing everyone time to freshen up before dinner, and Harry tentatively cast Episkey charms on the simpler injuries, and sent the rest to the Healer with their friends. The two hour session had flown by, but Harry felt exhausted at the end of it. When the last student left, Harry and Tom were left in the hall to tidy up, though the duelling platform itself would be retracted by the House Elves, replaced by dinner tables when they left (a good House Elf was never seen working, after all).

Harry sat on the end of the platform after waving at the retreating students, feeling the fatigue settle in, Tom actually joined him, hoisting himself up to sit next to the Professor.

“That went well.” He said, leaning back on his hands. Harry looked at his assistant and then immediately away again, Tom had worked up a sweat and his skin was shining a little. The seventeen-year-old had even undone a few buttons of his shirt and discarded his over-robe, Harry went into denial over Tom’s stupid attractive face and shiny skin, wondering instead if the Diary had ever looked this handsome - though he had seemed plenty handsome when Harry was twelve - Tom was a student! Supposed soulmate be damned. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, regretting it as he could then only hear Riddle’s breath.

“Yeah, it went well. Please write up a short report on the First through Fourth years progress before the next meeting.” Harry pushed himself off of the platform and walked around instead, casting cleaning charms at spots of the floor that seemed bloody or otherwise marred by unknown substances - one looked like muggle bubblegum of all things. 

“Yes, professor. I look forward to the next session.” Tom agreed obediently, and Harry heard him move, likely collecting his things to head back to the Slytherin Common Room. 

Feeling safer to look, Harry turned to catch a glimpse of Tom walking away, only to meet the boy’s gaze dead on from across the room. Harry’s mouth went dry, Tom smirked at him before slipping out of the room. _Still a student! Also future Dark Lord!_

Harry pushed through the strange feeling of yearning, blaming it entirely on time-home-sickness and that blasted tea that seemed so long ago now. That boy was up to something no doubt, he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

~

“Ah! Harry, my boy!” Those words made Harry wish he was repeating the final battle at Hogwarts rather than be caught between the man who had said them, and his dinner. Regardless of Harry’s wishes, Horace Slughorn wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders and walked with him, “How have you been? I heard about that duelling club of yours, simply ingenious! You know, I will be having a gathering of talented individuals soon and was rather hoping to extend an invite to you…”

The infamous Slug Club, Harry had thought he might escape it by being staff, but alas, here Horace was, drawing him in anyway. Harry wallowed in the despair of social interaction for a moment before forcing out a grin at his colleague.

“Sounds delightful.” He managed to say with a hint of a shrug, and he worried for a moment that the flat words would upset the professor, but Horace beamed at him instead then gripped him to his side a bit tighter in his joy before letting go.

“Good chap, I’ll send you a formal invite then, your favourite student will be there! And I know we shouldn’t play favourites, but you can’t hide it from me, Harry, with the extra lessons and the extra credit for playing assistant to your exceptional duelling prowess.” The man chuckled heartily and gave him a wink, Harry was equal parts confused and disturbed, the feeling of disturbance only grew stronger when he realised the man was talking about _Tom_.

“No, you’ve misunderstood, I definitely do not have a favourite, and if I did it wouldn’t be Mr Riddle-” Harry denied quickly, only to be interrupted. They were now walking down the side of the hall towards the staff dining table.

“Of course! Of course!” Horace laughed, “Jolly good. Oh I say is that roast pork? Come along, we must get our share before Herbert takes the best pieces.”

The ceiling above was enchanted to show the sky outside, but at that moment, it grew rather gloomy with grey clouds swirling around, threatening to shower on the students below. Harry rather felt a kinship with it.

~

_Dear Professor Potter,_

_Kindly join me in my office to discuss your situation after classes on Wednesday 2nd February. We have rather overlooked the paperwork detailing your employment and the Headmaster has kindly directed me to amend this with you. I, of course, shall have everything prepared by then._

_Wishing you well,_

_Albus P.W.B Dumbledore_

_Transfiguration Professor_

_Deputy Headmaster_

Harry frowned at the note, incinerating it after reading it as a matter of habit leftover from the war. He didn’t have any documents to prove his qualifications or legal status - not even a birth certificate that would let him pass under the radar in this time. He hoped Dumbledore’s message meant that he had come up with a way around that, it had been hard enough when he had officially joined the Aurors, he’d had to request copies of his formal documents from the Ministry itself as neither the Dursleys nor anyone in the Wizarding World had ever mentioned needing them or given them to him - but apparently, formal identification was important in getting a job, who knew? He’d been too busy fighting a war to care.

The days passed easily enough, Harry had been in this time for a month already and had adjusted to teaching more easily than he had ever thought he would, he knew that Hermione would tell him it was obvious after setting him onto the teaching route in their fifth year, and Harry was equally glad and saddened that she wasn’t with him to tell him, “I told you so.”

Thinking of his old friend was painful, Harry could only recall the day after this whole mess had started, when she’d looked so alive and was planning her future to the final detail over coffee and croissants. She had begun thinking of when she might like a child with Ron. Harry wondered if they had discussed it by the time he’d left, his heart ached at the thought that he might be changing things in the past just by existing - what if they never got together or had a hoard of bushy-haired ginger children as Harry imagined, because of his actions? Harry resolved to ask Albus about his progress on time-travel research when he saw him.

His last class on Wednesday finished at 2pm, but he knew Albus was teaching until 4pm, so he treated himself to a break from marking essays and went for a walk through the castle instead, enjoying how quiet it was when classes were in session.

He walked all the way up to the 7th floor, walking past the entry point for the Room of Requirement but not going in, echoes of a dozen times he’d been in there in his head instead. For a moment, flames and Draco Malfoy’s face were all he could see, then he took another step and shrugged it off, heading past several disused classrooms and reaching the entryway to the Gryffindor Common Room. The Fat Lady was just the same now as she was in his own time, asleep in her frame when the castle was quiet: some things never changed.

Harry wistfully looked at the portrait for a while, knowing he shouldn’t really go inside, though as a Professor he did know the password. It would be strange for the students to see a teacher who had never, by their knowledge, attended Hogwarts and therefore had no particular attachment to the common room. He bet the same squashy armchairs were by the fire where he, Ron, and Hermione would sit doing homework, playing chess or cards to pass the time - and of course, so many nights they had plotted and caused mischief in their own way, trying to stop Voldemort, trying to get through the Triwizard Tournament, and later Umbridge’s rein over Hogwarts… It was better if he didn’t go in. Too many memories.

Happy that no one had found him staring at the portrait like a fool, Harry turned and took a winding path down the many changing staircases. He found himself on the second floor after a fashion, hearing a distant high pitched noise and following it to find out what it was. He should have guessed.

Harry came face to face with the door to the 2nd floor Girl’s bathroom, and heard a splash of water and an unending scream of misery. He suddenly realised that Myrtle would have been killed only the year before he arrived, in Tom’s 5th year, and cursed that he hadn’t arrived earlier, that he hadn’t been able to save her. Harry didn’t go into the bathroom, the ghost girl deserved to mourn her loss of life in peace.

Instead, Harry went into the library which was happily on the same floor, and browsed the shelves, wondering if there were any books here that were gone in his own time - specifically any relating to the study of time, or less importantly, Defence Against the Dark Arts, to spice up the duelling club a bit.

He was considering heading to Dumbledore’s office empty handed when one title caught his eye: _An Essential How-To Guide in Defence, Peverell._ He was astonished at the title and when he reached out to touch it, he half expected it to disappear, it seemed a little too coincidental to be real. Alas, it was real and solid. Harry opened it to the first page:

_For every Peverell in need,_

_Shall this book appear,_

_Gifted only to my Descendants._

_The last enemy to be defeated is Death._

A cold shiver ran up Harry’s spine, and he deposited the book straight into his pocket (bigger on the inside), he was sure that the librarian wouldn’t notice it was gone. He’d read it more thoroughly later, for now he had to meet with Dumbledore.

~

“...Sign there… there… and when was your birthday before you arrived?” Albus directed him.

“It’s July 31st.” Harry told him distractedly, scribbling his signature again, “Wouldn’t it still be the same?”

“Well, you did tell me that it was summer in your time, yet you arrived mid-winter, your body continues to age, and so your birthday here in the past will unfortunately not quite match up to the one you are used to.” Albus explained, writing _July 31st_ on some parchment.

“Now, it **was** the last day of December you arrived, wasn’t it?” Albus questioned, “What was the date when you left?”

“Uh…” Harry’s mind drew a blank, he sat up and pushed his glasses up his nose while he thought about it, “I _think_ it was early July, wait, yes it was, it was the 9th.” Harry told him proudly, leaving off the year (it made him uncomfortable to think about it).

“So you arrived here 22 days before your birthday? That’s terrible news!” Albus bemoaned.

“...Why?” Harry questioned, wondering if the number 22 was significant in some way that meant his trip had broken the fabric of reality or something.

“We have just missed celebrating your birthday, my boy! Oh, Horace will be absolutely beside himself. You must remember for next year - if you are still here of course, your new birthday is 22nd January.” Albus informed him, waving the parchment with his calculations on it in his face.

“Oh.” Harry said, watching the parchment. Normally he would count down his birthday the night before, celebrating by himself at midnight, he felt bereft at having forgotten to do the ritual this time, “So, I’m 19 and didn’t know it.”

“You’re only 19?!” Albus dropped his parchment, “I fear the Headmaster will think me most remiss for hiring such a young assistant for Galatea, you do look a bit older… it’s your eyes I think.” He hummed to himself, brow furrowed.

“Well… we could always say I’m 21.” Harry suggested, ever the problem solver.

“Yes, that works wonderfully,” Albus’ face lit up at the solution, “So that means… your date of birth is now 22nd January 1923.”

Harry looked at the perfect copies of his birth and school certificates that Albus had created -and would get notarised by a discrete friend of his in the Ministry - He’d certainly never be able to tell the difference, it was astonishing.

“Great, now that’s done - and here’s the signed copy of my employment contract -” Harry said, handing over the document, “Let’s talk about Time.”

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you particularly loved or hated anything in this chapter, I'd love to hear about it in the comments! Don't be afraid to call me out on typos too, it's a terrible habit of mine.


	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Tom are spending a lot of time together, discussing moral issues, going to parties, and pulling each other into alcoves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I totally didn’t forget that Harry’s quarters are in the dungeon. Totally. Minor edits have been made to correct this ^^;

**Last Time...**

_Wednesday 2nd February 1944_

_“Great, now that’s done - and here’s the signed copy of my employment contract -” Harry said, handing over the document, “Let’s talk about Time.”_

_~_

From Albus’ expression, Harry knew it was not good news, the man put the stack of paperwork aside, let out a long sigh and sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees glumly.

“I thought that I would have had some luck with my contacts by now, I truly did.” Albus informed him apologetically. Harry winced and slumped in his chair.

“As much as I am enjoying teaching, I admit, I was hoping for better news.” Harry ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up on end - not that he was particularly in the mood to care about his appearance. 

“I truly am sorry, my boy. I will continue to look. You have adjusted very well to this time, all I can suggest at this time is to continue as you have in the meantime. I will alert you as soon as I have better news.” Albus gave him a strained smile. Harry took that as his cue to leave.

“Right, thank you Albus, I do appreciate you working on this, I realise you must have other responsibilities than this.” Harry anxiously patted his knees, wiping away the cold sweat that had developed on his palms. Albus nodded solemnly, and gestured vaguely towards the door which opened for Harry and closed behind him when he stepped through.

Harry hadn’t gone more than ten steps away from Albus’ office, preoccupied with his situation, when it seemed that Tom appeared out of nowhere, crashing into him and dropping a few scrolls of parchment over the floor.

“Fuck- Oh, Riddle-” Harry cursed, his head ringing from his new position on the floor, his student similarly cursing atop him and nursing his own jarred limbs.

“Professor?” Tom had a shocked and innocent expression when the boy pulled himself up, kneeling over him. Harry didn’t believe it for a second.

“Urgh, are you alright, Riddle? Get off, I definitely hit my head.” Harry grumbled at him, pushing himself up and finding himself chest to chest with the student who _had not moved._

In fact, Tom moved closer until his lips were next to Harry’s ear and whispered to him, sending an unwanted thrill through the assistant professor.

“So, no progress on your… displacement, professor?” Tom whispered to him, “Perhaps we should get together and discuss it, clearly Dumbledore has been useless to you. **_I_ **could help you.” The low tones of Tom’s voice were utterly distracting, as was the heat from Tom’s body against his own, it took a moment for Harry to process what the student had actually said.

“For merlin’s- You’re not even going to pretend you weren’t eavesdropping out here?” Harry growled at Tom and pushed Tom’s ridiculously firm chest until he could scoot back and clamber to his feet. Harry’s wand was in his hand in a second and Tom looked alarmed, favouring casting a shield charm from his position on the floor over getting up, but Harry only cast to gather the dropped scrolls and gave the paranoid Slytherin a long-suffering look.

Tom dropped the shield only after Harry put his own wand away and stood, plucking the parchment out of the air where it waited for him. Patiently, Harry waited to see what the boy would say.

“Shall we proceed to your office, professor?” Tom suggested, not a hair out of place. Harry’s eyebrow twitched with the urge to knock the scrolls from the boy’s hands again just to see him disheveled. Instead, he nodded and let the boy lead the way.

On the way, they didn’t speak, but Harry did wonder if it was true that Tom might have an idea about Time Magic while Albus had been struggling to find any research or ritual that might help him, or perhaps this was just going to be a recruitment pitch for Tom’s early circle of followers. It was difficult to tell, after all, even in his original timeline, no one truly knew how far Voldemort had gone with his studies into magic - Horcruxes might have just been the tip of the iceberg.

“What are all those anyway?” Harry gestured to the bundle in Tom’s arms as they finally reached his office and made themselves comfortable at his desk.

“The reports you asked for about the younger members of the duelling club.” Tom fluttered his eyelashes at him innocently.

“What even- You didn’t have to be this detailed!” Harry’s jaw dropped, dread rising in him as he realised Tom had pulled a ‘Hermione’ on him, providing many feet of parchment when he’d only really wanted a short report about their session. Tom just shrugged and dropped them onto his desk with a sly grin. Harry already regretted making the Prefect his assistant for the club and wondered if he could get another assistant just to read Tom’s reports and summarise them. He shook the thought away before he could get too distracted from the reason they’d gone to his office.

“Anyway, you already have learned that Al- Professor Dumbledore has had little success in his study of time magic, so what do you know that he doesn’t?” Harry leaned back in his chair and put his feet on his desk, secretly satisfied when he kicked some of the scrolls from where Tom had placed them. Tom’s disgruntled expression was worth it. The student took a chair opposite to him and sat forward, leaning on the desk to explain his theory.

“Professor Dumbledore is accomplished as a wizard, there is no questioning that, but he is limited by the laws and morals he clings to. Wizards such as you and I are not to be held back in the same way.” Tom asserted, eyes lighting up in excitement, “In my own research, I found references to time magic long before you arrived here, there are rituals that could be adapted to suit your purposes if you know where to look.”

A chill ran down Harry’s back while Tom spoke, his eyes had focused in on a glint near the boy’s knuckles, for there sat the Resurrection Stone, innocently winking at him from the golden ring on Tom’s hand. “ _In my own research,”_ echoed in Harry’s head, not hearing much after that. He’d already found that Myrtle was dead, he hadn’t realised that Tom must have already killed his Father and Grandparents, framing it on his Uncle, too. He took his feet off of the desk and leaned over it slowly and deliberately, frowning a little.

“Where exactly have you been looking?” Harry questioned lowly, trying not to look too hard at the ring, the horcrux sitting so plainly in his view, instead looking at Tom’s face, trying to catalogue any signs that he might be affected by the double splitting of his soul already. Excited, Tom leaned in further to divulge his secrets, misinterpreting Harry’s interest.

“There are many books which are not necessarily on sale in Flourish & Blott’s, but which can be found in the libraries of old families, and indeed, occasionally here at Hogwarts… Dumbledore would disavow them as being Dark, but truly, don’t you think that power, and intention, is more important than an arbitrary label such as that?” Tom insisted, eyes now gaining that far-away look which told Harry he was remembering another time he’d had a similar discussion with someone else. Perhaps the early Death Eaters, the Knights of Walpurgis.

“Indeed?” Harry pressed him, trying to look interested and not give himself away as fishing for information instead.

“Yes _ss_ ,” Tom hissed excitedly, nearly slipping into parseltongue, “Indeed the very ritual I have read about was in the Black Family Grimoire, which was leant to me by a dear friend. I’m sure I could get a copy of it. You would need to accumulate the necessary power of course, depending on how far from the future you have come-” Tom paused, waiting to see if Harry would tell him perhaps, before continuing, “But theoretically, with enough sacrifices and the right runes, you can accomplish anything, even travel back to your time. There’s no telling if it would be your original timeline though, or if you have made changes that would result in a different future. Current theories suggest that the timeline would try to correct any changes by inducing incidents - one person lives that should have died, therefore an equivalent person of value might die. Then there’s the alleged case of a witch who travelled back too far, a few hundred years. The magic didn’t hold and she snapped back to her time, but of course, she hadn’t foreseen that the consequence was that she’d age those few hundred years on her return journey. She died instantly.”

The flow of information didn’t stop there, Harry was fascinated but disturbed by the depth of knowledge Tom had, even at the age of 17. He raised his hand to get Tom to pause so that he could speak.

“This is all interesting, but did you say _sacrifices_? Like human sacrifices? Further, that there might be a risk that you might age the length of time you travel into the future? It seems like that is not an ideal solution.” Harry pointed out, Tom sat up from leaning over the desk and looked like he was actually considering Harry’s words. Harry felt like he’d taken the wind out of Tom’s proverbial sails a bit when it took a minute or two for the boy to speak again.

“Sacrifices…” Tom put the word forward as if testing its weight, “My life experiences have shown me that there is always a sacrifice in everything we do. Whether on the small scale of slaughtering livestock so that we can eat, the power sacrifice to cast spells each day, or even sacrifices in social interactions. Don’t you think that sacrifice is at the core of life?” 

The explanation was persuasive, but Harry was not deterred by the pretty philosophy.

“Whether or not that is true, we are not talking about that sort of sacrifice, are we, Tom? We’re talking about human sacrifice.” Harry countered seriously, catching the flicker of annoyance across Tom’s expression at being called out like that.

“The greater your aspirations,” Tom dared, “The greater the sacrifice **must** be.”

“How can we be the judges of what weight a sacrifice has then?” Harry questioned, folding his arms impatiently, “You would clearly place wizards such as yourself in a category that holds too much value to be sacrificed. I believe that any muggle in the world would have equal weight to myself in a ritual. Human sacrifice, the only qualifier is to be human.”

Tom snorted, “I don’t even know where to begin with that ridiculous statement.” The student dropped all pretenses at last.

“What’s wrong with what I said, then?” Harry pushed.

“Firstly, you assert that I would not sacrifice myself, or wizards that I considered alike to myself. You’re wrong. There would probably be a circumstance in which every living thing would be persuaded to do so. That I don’t know what that circumstance would be doesn’t mean I wouldn’t ever do it. Secondly, you would clearly be a more powerful sacrifice than any muggle, not only have you proven yourself to be a powerful and capable wizard, but you’re displaced in time, that must carry significance.” Tom insisted arrogantly. Harry could almost follow the Slytherin’s logic but was distracted by the fact that the young future Dark Lord had just complimented him, and at the same time asserted that there existed a possible situation where even Tom would give up his life. He tilted his head to one side, considering both points.

“I’m not sure I agree. Regardless of our difference in opinion, it is clear that the rituals you have been accessing are _illegal_. I’m not sure I can stand by while a young mind is tainted by such Dark Magic.” Harry provoked, internally wondering if he could use this discussion as grounds to search and confiscate things from Tom’s personal effects, the Auror in him was begging to do so.

“I believe you will stand by and allow me to continue, after all, you’re still in this time without the Ministry’s knowledge.” Tom threatened, smirking easily. Harry rolled his eyes, _this blackmail again_... 

“If you keep bringing that up, I might just go to them myself. What would you do then?” Harry wondered.

“You won’t. You’d be implicating Dumbledore.” Tom challenged. Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet back up on his desk and blocking his view of the smug asshole opposite him. He linked his hands behind his head, stretching out. Tom frowned at the dismissive action, so unlike last time when Harry had fought him to shut him up, the professor seemed almost too relaxed.

“Whatever, Tom, are you done? I have a lot of paperwork to get through thanks to your diligent reports.” Harry dismissed him.

“So you’re just giving up and staying in this time, then? You won’t even consider the ritual?” Tom stood up so that he was back in Harry’s line of sight. Harry enjoyed the way Tom bristled at his nonchalance.

“I won’t sacrifice anyone for my own gain, ever. You should adopt the same attitude, no one on Earth is expendable, Tom.” Harry lectured. Tom huffed and left without another word, Harry’s eyes watching his every step until the door slammed behind him.

~

The parchment was… lilac… 

Harry’s eyes darted to the bottom of the page, seeing that, yes, it was from Slughorn. The relief that Gilderoy Lockhart wasn’t somehow present in 1944 was strong, he’d had very strong flashbacks to his second year as soon as he’d opened the envelope. He reread the invite:

_To my esteemed colleague, Harry Potter,_

_I am inviting you as the Guest of Honour to a gathering of extraordinary individuals on Saturday hence, 5th February. This will be a chance for you to get to know the cream of the crop, as well as a celebration of your 21st birthday, which I was very sorry to hear we’d missed celebrating on the actual day. Dress code will be formal party attire, you may bring a date if you wish!_

_Yours ecstatically,_

_Horace Slughorn_

Harry turned to look down the staff table to where Horace was, naturally, watching him for his response to the invite. He forced himself to smile and nod at the cheery professor, then dropped the parchment, wishing he could set it on fire without offending anyone.

“You too, huh?” Herbert sympathised with him, “Slughorn’s parties always have good food and drink, but I’m never sure the social aspect is worth it.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that, aren’t you a Hufflepuff?” Harry grumbled, eating his toast without really tasting it.

“Hufflepuffs can hate socialising,” Herbert replied, amused, “Careful with the stereotype there, that’s like saying ol’ Sluggie is born to be a Reaper. Have you ever met a Slytherin that was less like the stereotype?”

“You have a point there, though gathering people around him that he hopes will be influential? Got the ambition and cunning down to a T.” Harry pointed out.

“Very true… Say, Albus, did you get an invite to this party too?” Herbert turned to the aforementioned professor on his other side. 

“I’m fairly certain most of the staff have been invited.” Albus confirmed with a small smile. Harry looked up from his toast and looked around at people opening their post, seeing more lilac letters than he was comfortable with. Almost desperately, he turned his gaze out to the student populace, seeing even _more_ of the damned invites. 

As if by cruel fate, his gaze landed on Tom at the moment the student was looking up at him, he was holding up lilac parchment idly in his hand with a raised eyebrow, then a smirk. Great. Just great. 

“Where is this gathering even happening if there’s going to be this many attendees?” Harry asked, horrified.

“I think Horace is actually going to set it up in here, the Great Hall is best suited for parties.” Albus informed him. 

Harry had flashbacks of the Yule Ball. A disaster by all accounts. He felt nauseous.

~

_Saturday 5th February 1944_

Albus had seen fit to send him some dress robes, that were apparently the fashion of the time. They weren’t as bad as Ron’s had been, Harry admitted looking in the mirror. They were a deep shade of Lilac unfortunately, but didn’t have frills. That was about all Harry was worried about. He hadn’t arranged a date for the event, already knowing he wouldn’t want to do any dancing, and not knowing any of his colleagues well enough to ask them to such a mortifying function anyway. He fussed a little bit with his hair in front of the tutting mirror for a moment more before giving up.

He’d much rather be heading to the Hog’s Head for a double firewhiskey. He’d rather go to the Chamber of Secrets and flirt with the basilisk than this. 

_Horace meant well_. Harry’s mantra for the evening. He’d go to this one function and then politely decline all future invites, it was only because the party was specifically for him that Harry was going (though that counted in the column for not wanting to go too).

Making sure his wand was in his holster, Harry picked up the bottle of Elf-made wine he’d bought as a gift for Horace (he’d heard it was polite to bring a gift for the host somewhere) and headed out of his quarters.

He was unprepared for the sight that met him outside of his door. Robes of the darkest black styled in a devilishly handsome way that clung to the body of the person he was most forbidden to find devilishly handsome. Tom Riddle. Holding a gift. With a frickin flower spello-taped to the ribbon. His eyebrow twitched.

“What in Merlin’s name..?” 

“It seemed a shame for you to turn up unaccompanied. I hope you like Honeyduke’s Ice Mice, it was all I had left in my sweets stash.” Tom tossed the box unceremoniously at Harry’s face and he fumbled with catching it, a sure sign of how shaken he was by Tom deciding _by himself_ that he was accompanying Harry to this party.

“Thank you?” Harry spelled the gift back to his quarters without looking inside the box, confused as hell.

“You’re welcome,” Tom smiled and smoothly offered him his arm. Harry’s brain short-circuited.

“Oh hell no.” Harry cursed and started walking very quickly away from the student. He heard an undignified snort and then Riddle caught up with him, matching his pace with ease. Stupid long legs.

“Eager to party, Professor?” Tom asked as they sped along, no doubt looking ridiculous as Harry sped up to try to outdo the boy, both speed-walking and almost jogging through the dungeon corridors to get to the Great Hall. Tom’s comment stopped Harry in his paces, as Harry realised he really was not eager to get to the party, just _away_ from the confusing young man.

“Why are you here?” Harry fretted, whirling around to check no one was in their part of the corridor and dragging Tom into an alcove so no one _would_ see them.

“Well,” Tom’s tone was teasing, “I’m here at your behest.” 

Frustrated, Harry glared at him, “That’s not what I meant, Mr Riddle. Do you… You turned up at my door like _this_ ,” Harry gestured at Tom’s robes, “You stated you wish to accompany me to this farce of a celebration. Is this a- No. Dating between Professors and Students is forbidden, _especially_ between us.”

Tom watched Harry’s apparent breakdown as the man refused to let Tom interject at any point and instead worked himself into a stressful frenzy of denial. The effect Tom had managed upon the professor was much stronger than he had guessed. He crossed his arms and waited for Harry to stop. Eventually Harry noticed Tom wasn’t saying anything.

“What?” Harry hissed defensively, exhausted already before even attending the party.

“You’re ridiculous. If it matters that much, I’ll go in ahead of you and you can show up a few minutes after. I just thought it would be nice.” Tom sniffed, pretending offense at the idea. Harry glowered and nodded his consent to the idea. Tom grinned at the grumpiness of the professor, and leaned unnecessarily close to him as he left the alcove, hovering for a second with his hand a hair’s width away from Harry’s chin as if he was about to kiss him. Harry’s eyes were wide as saucers, and his face as red as Gryffindor’s flag.

But then, Tom left, triumphant and in denial that Harry wasn’t the only one who’d need a glamour charm over their robes after being that close together.

~

Harry snatched another glass from a passing floating tray of drinks. The trays were charmed to keep younger students away from alcohol, but that just meant there was more for him. He was easily onto his fourth… whatever this was - champagne? Wine? Some fancy drink that Slughorn liked, it had a slight aftertaste of pineapple, nothing like Harry had ever tried before, but it was doing a wonderful job of getting him drunk enough to tolerate the people around him.

The food was buffet style, the table that was usually reserved for the teachers was laden with dishes, while the rest of the hall was tastefully decorated with candles, streamers and colourful beads. Music was coming from… somewhere, though Harry hadn’t spotted a radio, nor a live band. Some of the students were dancing, Albus had definitely been spotted on the dance floor. Harry had not danced, he’d been avoiding Slughorn and Tom in turn, greeting people and ducking out as soon as he was spotted. He’d only allowed Slughorn to capture him for precisely three minutes at the start of the session when the man had given a slightly stale yet heartfelt speech wishing him a year of good health and fortune.

Glass empty, Harry snuck up to the food table and switched his glass for a couple of chicken sandwiches. He nibbled on them as his eyes swept over the hall, locating the potential hostiles (i.e. would make him talk to people), but Harry jumped when Albus seemed to materialise at his elbow.

“Are you enjoying your evening, my boy?” He asked, clasping his hands in front of him. 

“Eh. Guess so. Why’d you have to tell Slughorn about my -hic- ‘Birthday’ anyways?” Harry grumbled, hiccuping between bites of his sandwiches.

“I thought it would be nice. You’re slowly coming out of your shell and settling into this time, what better way to show you how much the students and staff like you than by throwing a party? In particular, you’ve certainly caught a couple of intense eyes… Herbert likes you.” Albus gossiped, nudging Harry conspiratorially who scowled, not really hearing Albus properly as he tracked Tom’s progress through the room.

“He’s a student, I couldn’t- Wait, what? **Herbert**? No, he doesn’t.” Harry immediately denied, getting mental whiplash from the difference between Tom and Herbert. He started thinking of the strong armed Herbologist with kind eyes, and was unable to see how the Hufflepuff could possibly have eyes for him.

“I think he does, look there, he gets along with everyone but keeps looking over here. I don’t think he’s lost track of you all night.” Albus pointed out, tactfully ignoring Harry’s slip-up. It was indeed true that Herbert was glancing at Harry and Dumbledore every so often.

“Well,” Harry scrunched up his nose in confusion, almost swaying on the spot, “How do **you** know that he doesn’t just have a thing for you? That would make more sense. Closer in age ‘nd all that, colleagues, and from the same timeline for another thing.” Harry proclaimed, sticking out his tongue at Albus for good measure. Albus laughed in good humour, looking like he was actually considering Harry’s point for a moment.

“Perhaps I should, as they say, take the plunge and speak to him then? In the meantime, I’m sure there’s someone who could benefit from your good influence out there, good luck Harry.” Albus’ eyes were twinkling knowingly as he disappeared into the crowd as easily as he had appeared. Before Harry could dissect his statement, a group of students rushed by Harry, unbalancing him as they headed to the buffet table. An annoyingly familiar hand steadied him. 

“There you are, professor.” Tom gave him a winning smile, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had an invisibility cloak or something.” He gave a light, false laugh, and Harry laughed with him, though nervously.

“Ha, yeah, how crazy would that be.” Harry replied unconvincingly.

“Indeed...” Tom raised an eyebrow and started to lead Harry away from the raised platform by the table, “How many drinks have you had?”

“Some, not enough to be talking to you.” Harry told him snottily, pulling his arm from Tom’s grip to chase after a drinks tray (which wouldn’t stop for him because Riddle was too close damnit).

“You’d think Horace would let 6th years and above have a drink or two.” Tom wondered aloud as Harry finally got his hands on a glass.

“‘Twas easier to charm them so no students could have it than to do an age specific charm. Besides, drunk students do stupid shit.” Harry told him with a sloppy wink, downing the full glass like it was a shot, “‘F course, ‘Mione and Ron and I never had much chance for that, but we did _soooo_ much stupid shit after Hogwarts. Think that counts.”

Tom didn’t interrupt, but committed the names Harry was dropping to memory instead.

“Wait, do you - you wouldn’t know them, shit, nevermind. Forget I mentioned them. Anyways, people you’ll hopefully never meet and I, we used to play drinking games. Kinda got me in this mess in the first place, that and your stupid face.” Harry admitted, finding a wall and slumping against it in self-pity.

“My… stupid face?” Tom asked hesitantly, not sure if he wanted the answer.

“Yeah, that muggle tea was no muggle brew, that’s for sure.” Harry snorted, sliding down to sit on the floor, not revealing any more details even when Tom tried to pry details from him. Eventually, Tom gave up and sat down next to him in companionable silence.

“Shouldn’t be nice, this.” Harry blurted out after some time of watching people with Tom. He gestured at their current position.

“But it is, isn’t it? Happy belated Birthday, professor Potter.” Tom admitted, leaning his head back with a wry smile.

“Thanks Tom. Er, Mr Riddle. I really have had a few drinks. I should probably make a disgraceful retreat back to my quarters now.” Harry groaned, his head hurt a little from the alcohol.

“Would you like me to walk you back? I did accompany you here, after all.” Tom asked innocently, standing and offering his hand to Harry, who took the offered hand and stumbled to his feet.

“Urgh…” 

They left the Great Hall and the volume of chatter and music immediately reduced, making Harry wonder if there was a charm in the room to stop too much of the noise escaping and disturbing those who weren’t at the party. They lingered in the entrance hall for a bit, the door to outside was ajar, letting a cool wind in that helped Harry feel a little bit less like the floor was moving underneath him. Tom, on the other hand, was less impressed with the ‘breeze’.

“It’s February!” He complained, casting a warming charm over himself, “Who left this door open?” 

“Cheer up, we only left the party two seconds ago. Close the door if it bothers you that much.” Harry pointed out. Tom sniffed in disdain as if the action was beneath him, coming across as hysterically funny to Harry who broke out into giggles.

“You’re impossible.” Tom grumbled further, grabbing Harry by his sleeve and leading him away from the cold and up the many staircases towards Harry’s office, ignoring Harry’s whined protest of “but my quarters are in the _dungeons_...”

Happily, they made it there without incident, and Harry didn’t think much of letting Tom follow him into his warded office, where his own research, unmarked student assignments, and other random bits of parchment cluttered his desk. He turned his back on Tom for a moment to rifle through the mess, looking for something, but stopped and spun around out of instinct more than anything else when Tom got too close behind him.

His wand was at Tom’s throat, and Tom’s wand was at his throat. The damned student was taller than him and loomed a bit, but Harry couldn’t help comparing their current stance to their earlier one in the alcove. The same heat of their bodies sharing the same space distracted him now, though he wasn’t so far gone that he’d completely forgotten who he was with.

Harry’s genial mood was disappearing, the atmosphere growing tense as they held their wands at each other’s throats, neither willing to make the first move, eyes roving over the other’s face in the hopes of determining what the next action would be. Harry finally guessed that Tom was bluffing and wouldn’t curse him, and pushed him away firmly, pleased when Tom gave in after some token resistance.

“What are you hoping to accomplish?” Harry questioned warily, Tom only lowered his wand after another moment, sighing and appearing to let his guard down. Harry gave him the benefit of the doubt, and mirrored him, leaning back against his desk while he waited for a response.

“To understand you.” Tom eventually bit out, “I want to know what battles you’ve fought, the friends you’ve left behind, what you think about first and last thing in the morning. Your darkest secrets, your lightest moments… I just want to know everything.” 

His speech was breathtaking and from any other person, Harry would have found it romantic, but it struck a dissonant chord in him - the very line of obsession that defined his whole life seemed to blur and fear gripped him as he remembered the diary Horcrux’s sentiment, “ _For months now, my new obsession has been_ **_you_ ** _.”_

"Why?" The word tore itself from Harry in a broken, haunted cry. Tom looked startled at how distressed Harry was becoming, but pleased at the same time, as if this was somehow progress. Tom stepped towards him, reached for him but stopped short of actually touching him.

“It’s like… I already know you, but the information is just out of reach. Maybe you already knew me before you came here?” Tom laughed to himself and dropped his hands back to his sides, fingers curled into loose fists. With bated breath he waited to see if Harry would return his candor. 

Harry’s heart ached at how close to the truth the seventeen year old was, though he had no idea of the pain his future, Harry’s past, contained. Harry almost wanted to tell him, opened his mouth and wetted his lips in preparation when the light caught the resurrection stone, reminding him: Tom was already a murderer. Barely a man, yet he had killed at least four people and split his soul twice. There was no telling how he’d react to the truth.

“I didn’t know you.” Harry whispered, and in a way, Harry could almost believe it, could almost convince himself it was true, Voldemort was worlds away from the young man in front of him. Tom hissed in disbelief, wand sliding into his hand ready to disagree but was taken off guard in the next moment:. Harry, emotionally exhausted, ignored him and turned from the Slytherin to wipe his face tiredly with his hand, now that he’d sobered up a bit he just wanted to sleep. His eyes roved over his desk and he spotted the Peverell defence book… That could work as a viable distraction.

“Riddle, have you looked into your family line much yet?” Harry grabbed the book and turned back to the now confused boy.

“Yes… My mother was the last female of the Gaunt line, descended from Slytherin himself.” He gloated, standing up straight in pride of his heritage, Tom’s eyes were guarded though at the change in topic.

“Did you know that Salazar Slytherin was descended from the Peverell family line? My ancestors too, if you look back far enough, I think that the Peverell brothers connect us in a way. Regardless, I found this book in the Library the other day, it seems almost meant to fall into my hands as I was thinking about the duelling club when I spotted it.” Harry easily handed the book over to Tom, who put his wand away and carefully opened the cover to read the inscription. 

“I’ve looked through it briefly, it seems like the sort of spells that have fallen out of use over time that could give our club members an advantage in duels, or real life threats. Not necessarily dark or light… Just slightly different magic.” Harry explained while Tom read and started to flick through the pages.

“These spells aren’t latin.” Tom observed curiously, “These are… Anglo-Saxon?”

“Probably. I want our future prep sessions for the duelling club to focus on practicing these spells, and then discussing how to incorporate them into a duelling strategy. I will keep the book here, in my office though, since it is the only copy we have.” Harry declared, putting out his hand to take the book back. Reluctantly, Tom handed it over.

“I look forward to it.” Tom drawled, “I suppose I should get back to the Slytherin Common Room… Round up any stragglers breaking curfew…”

It seemed that Tom was hesitating, looking for a reason to stay. Harry stepped into Tom’s space and looked him in the eye. “Yes, you should do that. Good night, Mr Riddle.”

“Until Monday, Professor.” Tom murmured, eyes darting down to Harry’s mouth for a fraction of a second before he whirled around and left with his robes flaring dramatically around him. Harry conjured a glass and water and drank at least half a litre to try and escape the feeling of his mouth being too dry, and the stifling heat that wearing dress robes seemed to have created.

~

Later, Harry found his way to his bed, and nearly crushed the gift box on his bed, he snorted when he looked at it and opened it up, feeling like nibbling on something sweet before succumbing to sleep. Only, when he removed the lid, it wasn’t Ice Mice inside.

With trepidation and trembling hands, Harry removed the thin tissue paper wrapped around it first and then discarded the box, holding in his hands a thin leather diary. He turned it over and inscribed in small gold letters on the back was his name: HARRY JAMES POTTER.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Hope this was worth the wait! Yes the implication at the end there is that the diary looks exactly the same as Tom's iconic horcrux diary, but with Harry's name on it. Pretty sure poor Harry wont be able to sleep after looking at that lmaooo. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading :)


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